


Never a Straight Line

by lossie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Harry Potter is So Done, Harry Potter is the Girl Who Lived, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, How Do I Tag, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Male-Female Friendship, Redemption, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Slow Build, Swearing, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lossie/pseuds/lossie
Summary: “And soulmates? What does that mean?”Ron seemed to brighten a little at that. He always did so when he had a chance to teach Harry and Hermione something new about magic.“So there’s this legend, right? Like, at first witches and wizards where sort of joined. One soul in two bodies or something. But then the old gods got jealous of them. Didn’t like how powerful that made the magical folk, I guess. And they separated them into two people, with only half a soul each, to make them weaker. We are supposed to be looking for our other half in people since then.”
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 159





	1. 1991/1992

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I obviously don’t own the Harry Potter franchise and I’m making no profit from this story.**
> 
> So. I have been a huge sucker for Fem!Harry stories for a while, but I have never been able to come up with a good enough plot for this trope before. I also haven’t written anything for HP in such a long time... It feels a bit nostalgic, to be honest, even if this is definitely not the pairing I used to write for a few years back.
> 
> Regarding the story itself, it’s pretty straightforward - it’s basically a rewrite of the whole series with Harry as a girl and the added bonus plotline in the form of soulmates, which IMHO adds to the motif of “love conquers all” that features so prominently in the series.  
> If I didn’t mention it or there is no corresponding scene, please feel free to assume the events in the missing scenes played out according to canon. I’m a strong believer that while some things would have been inevitably different if Harry was a girl, the main plot wouldn’t have been altered too much and I honestly like it this way. After all, Female Harry is still going to be Harry – the sarcastic little dumbass that we all know and love.
> 
> Also FYI, Harry and Severus don't end up together until the very end, so she is over eighteen. That's why I didn't tag it as teacher-student.
> 
> Now, without further ado, please enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments!

It all started, weirdly enough, with a letter.

The day didn’t begin in a particularly ominous way. There was nothing that heralded the upcoming change or announced that something out of the ordinary was going to happen.

That is, if you didn’t count the horrible smell in the kitchen that seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink where Aunt Petunia was dying Dudley’s old uniform shirts to save up on having to buy a new set for Harry when she started at Stonewell High in September. They were supposedly going to look just like the uniforms, but Harry seriously doubted they would.

It was June and the beginning of summer holidays, and everything seemed to be the same as always. Harry had woken up early to water the garden, she made breakfast for the Dursleys and, after serving the full spread, she sat in the kitchen, nibbling on some slightly burnt toast and drinking water from the tap.

Then there was the familiar click of the mail slot, followed closely by the flop of letters falling through, and Harry, as usual, went to collect the post. Only three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and...

A letter. For Harry.

She picked it up, her hand trembling, and just stared at it for a few moments, her heart twanging like a giant elastic band and her eyes wide. The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink, the script elegant and looping. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over to see if there was any return address or anything, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms with a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to her. Who would? She had no friends, no other relatives, and she didn't even belong to the library, so she had never even got rude notes asking for books back.

Yet here it was. A letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

_Miss H. Potter  
The Cupboard under the Stairs  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey_

A bit shocked, she carried it into the kitchen with her, which turned out to be a huge mistake. She had no idea why her Aunt and Uncle reacted so violently to a piece of old-fashioned correspondence, but they did. The letter was burned and Harry was convinced that was the end of it.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

The letters kept coming. No matter what Uncle Vernon did, they appeared every morning like clockwork, accompanied, weirdly enough, by a literal parliament of owls. The birds would perch on Uncle Vernon’s car, the low fences separating the neatly-trimmed front yards on Privet Drive, the street sign, and the neighbouring houses, and they would hoot softly at Harry went she went into the garden early in the morning to water Aunt Petunia’s flowerbeds and turn on the sprinkler.

Harry wanted to know who had written to her, as they seemed to be oddly determined for her to get the letter and somehow knew she wasn’t getting it, but she didn’t think reading something out of curiosity was worth being grounded, so she resigned herself to watching as her Uncle bolted the mail slot shut and how he burned any letter that inevitably turned up in the fireplace.

However, soon it wasn’t quite enough. The letter kept coming in larger and larger quantities, and her relative kept getting more and more freaked out by it. It didn’t take long for Uncle Vernon to decide that enough was enough.

They spent weeks travelling from one place to another, followed by the letters and the owls wherever they went.

Harry sometimes wondered if it had anything to do with her freakishness – with ending up on the roof, turning Mrs Jones’ hair blue, growing back her own hair after Aunt Petunia cut it all off, or letting out the boa in the zoo – but she didn’t allow herself to hope too much.

After all, magic wasn’t really, was it?

Her relatives, on the other hand, seemed very sure it was all her fault and blamed her for having to travel all over Britain. Harry, for the life of her, couldn’t understand how she was possibly responsible for this mess – she didn’t even know who wrote all those letters!

She never could have imagined everything would resolve itself as if by magic – or rather literally by magic – with a sudden and definitely unexpected appearance of a friendly half-giant, who came armed with a pink umbrella, a squashed birthday cake, and an all-too-familiar letter addressed to one _Miss H. Potter_.

Being a witch certainly explained _a lot_.

-

Hogwarts felt like home.

To be fair, Harry had never treated 4 Private Drive as a home. It has always been just a house, which she happened to share with the Dursleys, but it has never been more than that. Discovering magic made so many things that much clearer in her mind, even if it brought with it its own list of questions and unknowns.

Harry had loved exploring Diagon Alley and shopping with Hagrid. She was beyond excited about the new school as she had always really liked learning new things and magic seemed like the most interesting thing one could learn about. There would also be no Dudley to chase her between classes and no Dursleys overall to spread lies about her. It seemed like a dream come true.

When she entered Hogwarts for the first time, she couldn’t help but feel like she finally belonged somewhere, to a place and a people that had nothing to do with the bleakness of Little Whinging. At Hogwarts people didn’t have the preconceived notion that she was a troublemaker or a horrible, good-for-nothing freaky child. They called her the Girl Who Lived, seemed fascinated with her scar and treated her like a hero of some sort – all of which freaked her out a little, if she was being honest – but they were mostly nice and welcoming, and she found herself enjoying the positive atmosphere of the school most of all.

Then there were Ron and Hermione, of course. Her first friends.

Harry had liked Ron from the moment she met him. He was funny, easy to talk with, and didn’t mind her asking an avalanche of questions. Standing up against Malfoy, who said such nasty things about Ron’s family and then expected Harry to befriend him, was the first time she has ever really fought in defence of somebody and it felt amazing. Their friendship was cemented in that moment.

Befriending Hermione was a bit different.

Harry hadn’t being sure about the other girls in her year and at first she was really bumped that she couldn’t share the dormitory with Ron. It changed rather quickly when she realized that Hermione shared her wonder for all things magic as she had also grown up in the Muggle world. It was something Ron couldn’t possibly understand, having been brought up in a wizarding family. It was also nice not to be the only person who was confused about how certain things worked as it made Harry feel a bit less stupid.

For a moment Harry was afraid that her new friends wouldn’t get along, but, surprisingly enough, they did. She suspected that Ron was trying very hard not to say something mean at times, especially when Hermione would reprimand him for something or offer unsolicited advice, but he tolerated the know-it-all, bushy-haired girl for Harry’s sake and kept his comments to himself. Hermione, on the other hand, either didn’t notice Ron’s struggle to remain civil or she didn’t care. She also seemed very happy to babble at Ron and Harry about everything without expecting a reaction most of the time, and Harry had a feeling Hermione knew very well what it was like not to have any friends.

In hindsight, Harry should have expected something to give. Things were just a little bit too good to be true.

And, predictably enough, something gave at the end of their first week at Hogwarts.

-

Harry got the feeling at the start-of-term feast that Professor Snape didn’t particularly like her. Now she knew she had been wrong.

Snape didn’t just dislike her – he _hated_ her.

She expected him to be mean, of course. Ron’s older brother, Percy, as well as countless other students had warned her about the Potions Master who was notorious for his harshness, horrible comments, and blatant favouritism towards Slytherins. Harry still hoped for and expected something else, something better, though.

It wasn’t even just the fact the professor seemed angry with her for not paying attention, not really.

He had every right to be angry at her for that, even if she had been listening to him and taking notes on top of that. What hurt her in this situation was the fact Snape didn’t stop at reprimanding her for ignoring him. No. He proceeded to embarrass her in front of the whole class, all while making dig after dig at how utterly stupid she was.

Even though she had been waiting for the other shoe to drop and she was more than used to being treated poorly, like a necessary evil one just had to endure, Snape’s words made her want to curl into a ball and cry. It reminded her too much of her life before Hogwarts.

Back in Little Whinging, Harley Lily Potter has only ever been known as the delinquent niece of the Dursleys.

No matter what, people always saw only what her Aunt and Uncle wanted them to see, and never took Harry’s side in anything. All the children in the neighbourhood were warned to stay far away from her and all her teachers were told that she was a troubled child who told tales and shouldn’t be trusted. Then there was Dudley’s gang on top of it all. They bullied Harry and any kid stupid enough to talk with her until everyone got the message and left her well enough alone.

Hogwarts was supposed to be different though; a fresh start. In many ways it still was. She had friends now, for example. People were nicer to her than she ever remember them being before in her life and everyone was so welcoming, so kind.

Well, everyone except Snape.

Harry swallowed thickly, blinking away tears.

She had been so stupidly excited for Potions too. It sounded a bit like science and she had always loved that subject at her Muggle school. Her science teacher, Miss Lewis, was nice and fair to everyone, and she didn’t seem to like Dudley all that much, which only made Harry like her more.

The woman was also the first person who noticed that Harry’s eyesight was poor and actually did something about it.

Aunt Petunia had been really angry with Harry for having the audacity to be born nearsighted, but she couldn’t very well argue with a teacher about the issue. In the end, she was all but forced to buy her niece glasses. Of course, Petunia Dursley was more resourceful and cunning than anyone gave her credit for, so the pair of frames Harry got was second-hand and broken, barely held together with a piece of sellotape. Thankfully, the lenses adjusted a bit over time with the help of what Harry now knew had to be accidental magic and she certainly could see much better in them. Not that it was nearly enough as Harry still had to squint a lot if something was too far and her eyes got very tired when she read for an extended period of time.

If only Miss Lewis could teach Potions instead of Snape! Harry would have liked it much better this way, she was sure.

She once again blinked away the stubborn tears that continued to gather in her eyes against her will and focused all of her attention back on preparing Cure for Boils.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t see the board very well from this far away, but if she squinted a bit harder and compared the recipe on the board to the one in the book, it was relatively easy to figure out what she had to do and in what order. Since _Magical Draughts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger was the only textbook she had read back to back before term started, she noticed immediately that some of the instructions provided by Snape didn’t align with what was written in the textbook.

With a frown, she checked once again, squinting and narrowing her eyes a bit harder.

Yup, the recipes were definitely different.

The changes weren’t big or anything. They sort of reminded Harry of the adjustments she would sometimes make while cooking.

With a mental shrug, she decided to prepare the brew following Snape’s instructions. Even if he was mean, he was also a Potions Master, so there was probably a good reason why he decided to change the recipe. He didn’t exactly seem like the type to waste energy on pointless things.

Brewing proved to be as much fun as she thought it would be. Some of the ingredients were kind of yucky and smelled weird, but the process was similar enough to cutting up veggies and making a soup that she was able to ignore the discomfort of handling snails and the like for the most part.

She was lowering the fire under her cauldron for the last step where the potion was supposed to simmer for a few minutes when someone yelped. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint who made the noise as there was a rather large cloud of red smoke puffing out of Neville’s cauldron, filling the classroom with the ratchet smell of dirty socks.

Suddenly Harry was very glad that she, Hermione, and Ron decided to sit further back. She was sure Snape would have found a way to blame this on her otherwise.

Eyes wide, she watched from her place two desks down as her classmate’s potion gurgled ominously before it suddenly came to a rather violent boil and started to spill over, melting the sides of the cauldron and dripping onto the workbench in the process.

Unsurprisingly, Snape noticed it too.

Harry quickly averted her eyes to avoid being caught staring, but she could hear her teacher tear into Neville just fine all the same.

"Idiot boy!" He snarled as the horrible odour of the messed up potion disappeared suddenly. Snape must have cleaned it up somehow, probably with magic. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville mumbled something incoherent in response. Harry felt bad for him. She knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of Snape’s anger. It wasn’t a good place to be, for sure. At least now she knew she wasn’t the only person Snape hated.

“Five points from Gryffindor and detention tomorrow. Miss Patil, take Longbottom to the Hospital Wing,” Snape barked before addressing the rest of the class, “If you are done, transfer the finished product into the flasks, mark them with your name, and put them on my desk. After you have cleaned your work station, you may leave.”

Harry quickly checked the contents of her cauldron. The potion seemed to be the right colour and smelled strongly like one of the herbal teas Aunt Petunia liked to drink, which, Harry supposed, matched the earthy smell she should look for in the properly brewed draught, at least according to the book. Smiling a bit, she carefully measured the appropriate amount into the glass flask on her desk and put the stopper in to prevent it from spilling. She then he wrote down her name on a piece of parchment with a bit of string handing off it. After the ink dried, she secured the parchment to the neck of the flask with the string and then walked over to the front of the classroom to deposit it on the professor’s desk.

As she went back to her workbench to clean up, she wondered if maybe her initial impression of Snape wasn’t a bit too harsh. After the way he treated Neville and judging by his overall behaviour, he didn’t seem to be the type of person who liked anyone in particular. In fact, she had a sneaking suspicion he didn’t particularly like the Slytherins either, even if it looked like he genuinely favoured them in class.

She glanced at her notebook, deep in thought. Maybe if she apologized for not paying attention and explained that she had just been taking notes, nothing more, Snape wouldn’t be so mean to her next time? If she had learnt anything at her Muggle school, it was that apologizing could get you out of trouble, whether something was your fault or not. Besides, it was not as if she had much to lose either way, so she might as well try.

Mind made up, she waited for the other students to finish cleaning and then leave. Ron and Hermione gave her questioning looks when they noticed she still wasn’t done, going as far as to offer to wait for her, but she declined.

“I’ll catch up with you in a second,” she told them quietly.

Thankfully, they didn’t press the issue and soon she was left alone with Professor Snape. He seemed to notice she was still in the room when she was putting her cauldron away in the cupboard.

“Is there a particular reason for your dawdling, Potter?” The man asked, his eyes focused on her. “I assure you I won’t write you a slip if you intend to be late to your next class.”

“I understand, sir,” Harry said as she reached to pick up her bag and gathered whatever courage she had. With a deep steadying breath, she slowly approached him.

Snape watched her the entire time, but made no move to get up from behind his desk.

“What do you want then?” He finally inquired.

Instead of answering, Harry handed him her notebook. The man leafed through the pages before looking back into her eyes.

“What is this?”

“My notes, sir,” Harry said. “From the beginning of the class.”

“And you’re showing me this _because_...?” Snape drawled.

“I wanted to apologize, sir. For not paying attention.” At her words, both of Snape’s eyebrows shot up his forehead in what Harry suspected was a very rare display of any emotion other than anger or displeasure. She continued, “I wasn’t ignoring you at the beginning of the class or anything like that, sir. Just writing everything down. I wanted to say that I’m sorry and that I promise it won’t happen again.”

Snape glanced at her notebook once more and then back at her. He repeated this action a few times as if trying to understand something that didn’t quite make sense.

“Apology accepted, Miss Potter,” he said finally after what seemed like forever as he placed her notebook on the edge of his desk so she could take it. She did so before putting it in her bag. “Now run along. I was serious about the slip.”

“I know. Thank you, sir,” Harry responded, smiling just a bit.

She was almost out of the classroom when Snape called her again.

“Miss Potter,” he started, but hesitated for a second. Then he gestured to the board which Harry assumed still held the instructions for the potion. “Miss Potter, can you see what’s on the board?”

A bit confused by the question, Harry slowly shook her head.

Snape made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “Of course you can’t,” he muttered as he reached for a piece of parchment, quickly wrote something down on it and then stood up to walk over and give it to her. “Take this with you to Madame Pomfrey when you go to visit her after your lessons today. I don’t want to see you back in this classroom, Miss Potter, until you are not half-blind and posing a risk to yourself as well as your peers. Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, nodding to emphasise that she indeed understood him.

“Good. Now, off you go.”

Harry didn’t have to be told twice.

-

The note from Professor Snape turned out to be instructions for the Hospital Wing matron to conduct a thorough eye exam on Harry and order her a new pair of glasses if need be.

To say Harry was surprised by this turn of events would have been an understatement. It was one thing for a teacher not to hate her, but it was completely another to do something like that for her. Even though Harry knew Snape wasn’t a nice person, he seemed to be in the business of doing nice things when the mood struck him. No matter his motivation, Harry appreciated it all the same.

Madame Pomfrey, the Mediwitch, was really nice, if a little overbearing and motherly. She tutted a lot at the state of Harry’s vision while she performed the exam and charmed the lenses in the girl’s glasses, stating that she was amazed she could see anything at all with her old pair. In a way the witch reminded Harry of Mrs Figg, the Dursleys’ weird neighbour with whom the Girl Who Lived stayed sometimes when her family went on holidays, though, instead of cats and mothballs, Madame Pomfrey smelled of antiseptic and something vaguely herbal.

All in all, Harry was pleasantly surprised by the care and attention she was given. When she finally left the Hospital Wing on Friday evening, she could see clearly for the first time ever and she was beyond excited to explore the castle the next day with Ron.

On Saturday, right after breakfast, Harry dragged Ron away from the Great Hall, intent on starting their adventure. Without giving it much thought, she had grabbed her friend’s hand, which made him stiffen as he followed her out into the Entrance Hall and then up the stairs.

Noticing his discomfort, Harry asked, “Is everything okay?”

“You shouldn’t do that,” he replied after a moment in a strangled voice, his eyes wide.

“Do what?” Asked Harry.

“ _That_ ,” Ron said, gesturing to where they were still holding hands. “It’s not, um, proper, ya’know?”

Now properly confused, she frowned. “What? Why?”

Ron seemed to mule over the question for a second, his eyes fixed on their joined hands as if they held the answer he seemed to be looking for.

“I-I don’t, um,” he stuttered, going a bit red in the face, “I don’t supposed anybody told you? You know, about soulmates? And stuff?”

She slowly shook her head.

“Okay. Alright.” Her friend took a deep breath before looking around, probably to make sure they were alone, before he continued, “So, um. I’m not really sure about the details, mind you, but Mom told us that touching someone is, you know, somehow special and you shouldn’t really do it just like that. That’s why some people wear gloves and long sleeves, and keep their distance from others, I guess. So they don’t touch someone by accident or what not.”

“O-kay,” Harry said slowly, “but what does it have to do with soulmates? And why is touching you not proper?”

“Well, because you should ask to touch me, I think? Soulmate bonds are private, I guess you could say, and touching someone like that is considered really rude,” Ron explained.

“And soulmates? What does that mean?”

Ron seemed to brighten a little at that. He always did so when he had a chance to teach Harry and Hermione something new about magic.

“So there’s this legend, right? Like, at first witches and wizards where sort of joined. One soul in two bodies or something. But then the old gods got jealous of them. Didn’t like how powerful that made the magical folk, I guess. And they separated them into two people, with only half a soul each, to make them weaker. We are supposed to be looking for our other half in people since then.” Ron paused, once again glancing at their hands. “There’s supposed to be this gold light and things when you find them. The other part of your soul, I mean.”

“Oh,” Harry mumbled, thinking it over. “So we’re not...?”

Ron shook his head, looking a little bit disappointed, but not overly so.

“It’s fine!” He assured her quickly. “I like being just your friend!”

Harry ginned at that. “I like being just your friend too,” she told him. “And I’m sorry about touching you.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Ron waved her off. “You didn’t know. I guess at least we know for sure now, right?”

Harry nodded before a sly smile stretched across her face. “Does it mean I can touch you now?”

Ron made a face. “If you have to...”

She just laughed in response.

They spent the rest of the day walking around the castle and the grounds hand in hand. If they happened to pass other students, they were given looks, but nobody seemed too keen on commenting on the two of them touching. Harry guessed they didn’t consider it any of their business, which was more than fine with her. At this point, she was already kind of used to people looking at her and whispering behind her back, so the fact they didn’t do it now was a good sign in her books.

After the trip and dinner, they met up with Hermione in the Common Room to work a bit on their homework. Ron didn’t seem to be particularly interested in studying on the weekend – claiming it would make his twin brothers laugh at him if they saw it – but he didn’t have much choice as he was basically strong-armed into it by both of his female friends.

They were finishing their essays for Transfiguration when the portrait guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower swung open, revealing Neville fresh out of his detention with Snape.

The boy bee-lined for their table, looking a bit shaken, but happier all the same.

“How did it go?” Hermione asked him anxiously as he sat down next to her. “What did the professor made you do?”

“I bet it was something horrible,” cut in Ron, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “The greasy git hates students, Gryffindors in particular.”

“Ron!” Hermione admonished in a scandalized voice. “You shouldn’t speak about a teacher like that!”

“It’s true though,” one of Ron’s twin brothers said from where the two of them were lounging on the couch in front of the fireplace. “Everybody and their mother know it too, Granger.”

“It wasn’t bad, really,” Neville said hesitantly before Hermione could argue her point further.

“What did you do then?” Asked Harry, curious despite herself.

“He told me to redo the potion,” the boy informed them, now smiling a little. “And then he gave me half the credit for it when I did it right too!”

A moment of stunned silence followed his words.

“No way,” the other twin said. “No. Way.”’

Neville just blushed and shrugged his shoulders.

-

Following Neville’s revelation about what Fred and George Weasley called a glitch in whatever made Professor Snape such a prick on a daily basis, Harry thought long and hard whether her apology had anything to do with the professor’s sudden personality shift. She was pretty sure that had she not apologized to the man, Neville’s detention would have been indeed rather unpleasant. Still, for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why saying sorry made any difference.

Come Monday, the entire Gryffindor table was buzzing with the gossip about what could have gotten into everyone’s least favourite teacher.

By Wednesday, the whole school had joined it, exchanging outlandish theories and speculations that made Harry’s head spin.

When Friday rolled around, Harry was very nervous about going to the dungeons for the morning double Potions. Fortunately, it turned out rather quickly she needn’t have to be.

Snape did the roll call like before, collected their report cards to fill in their grades, and then provided them with instructions for the potion they would be brewing that day. Afterwards he remained surprisingly quiet and calm, staying mostly at his desk instead of prowling around the room like an overgrown black cat. Even when he asked them questions, they were open-class and he actually awarded a point to Hermione when she got the answer right.

The biggest surprise though happened at the end of the class when he handed them back their cards. Harry’s eyes almost bulged out when she saw the neat O in hers. When she looked at him, bewilderment clear on her face, he caught her eyes and nodded before going back to his paperwork.

Okay.

So maybe Snape didn’t, in fact, hate her.

She could certainly work with that.

-

Apart from whatever was happening to their Potions Master, things at Hogwarts were a bit weird. Harry had a lot of things to think about – namely the mystery of the third floor and why someone would let a mountain troll into the castle.

Even though she wasn’t involved in that situation, thank Merlin, she heard about the creature wreaking havoc in the girl’s toilet and how the teachers barely managed to restrain it. From what she heard around the school, nobody was sure how the troll got in or even why. Harry had her suspicions though, which she shared with both her friends.

“A distraction? Really?” Hermione looked thoughtful. “But why?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “The third floor, what else!” He exclaimed. ”You know, the place with the monster of a dog that tried to eat us?”

The three of them had a run-in with the dog shortly after the start of term. It was a memorable experience for each of them.

“Very funny, Ronald,” the Muggleborn witch said, shooting him a murderous look, before admitting, “You do have a point, though. It seems suspicious.”

“It is,” Harry agreed. “And we know that whatever is there was taken from Gringotts on the day Hagrid and I went to the Diagon Alley. We have to find out what the dog is guarding, guys. I bet whoever is responsible for the troll wants to get this thing.”

“I bet it’s Snape,” Ron said after a moment. “He looks like the type.”

Both girls sighed.

“ _Professor_ Snape is a teacher here,” Hermione said.

“So what? Didn’t stop him from hexing Harry’s broom, did it?” Countered Ron.

Harry wanted to disagree, because, if nothing else, she respected her Potions teacher, but Ron was kind of right too. Snape did seem to be the type, fitting the role of a bad guy almost perfectly. In any case, she was sure he was somehow involved in the situation, whether as a culprit or not simply remained to be seen. His agenda was unclear as of yet.

“We just have to keep an eye on him while we investigate,” she offered and her friends nodded in agreement.

-

It was just their luck that a random conversation with Hagrid over tea and rock cakes pointed them in the right direction. Unfortunately, before they could start researching Nicolas Flamel, they got distracted.

Harry had no clue how their half-giant friend managed to obtain a dragon egg, but she was sure it wasn’t legal or particularly safe. Turns out, taking care of a baby dragon wasn’t as easy as Hagrid expected and they soon realized they were in over their heads.

Due to Ron’s quick thinking they arranged for the dragon to be transported to Romania where Ron’s older brother, Charlie, would take care of the creature.

Of course Malfoy had to get involved in the situation somehow, landing himself, Harry, Hermione, and Neville in detention and losing them all twenty points each. The Slytherin boy was a right prat and she was really glad she hadn't befriended him back in September and that they had little dealings with each other after the duel that Malfoy had chickened out of. It was why Harry wasn’t really surprised that he was a coward. The fact that he just left her in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, running away in blind panic from whatever monster was feasting on unicorn blood, only reinforced her opinion of him.

The only reason why Harry didn’t end up maimed or killed were the centaurs who swopped in the nick of time to save her.

The encounter in the forest, no matter how scary or unpleasant, led Harry to believe that Professor Snape wasn’t interested in stealing whatever the three-headed dog was guarding. For one, her Potions teacher didn’t seem like the type to go around murdering magical creatures in the middle of the night. He also didn’t look like someone who was living a cursed existence due to consuming the blood of the innocent, although she was certain his sunny disposition would lead some to believe otherwise. Lastly, he was apparently suspicious of another teacher who had been involved in all the strange happenings around the school one way or another.

As with most things, Harry discovered this titbit by accident when she was running away from Filch in the middle of the night after breaking into the Restricted Section of the library to try to find information about Flamel.

She quite literally stumbled upon Snape interrogating Professor Quirrell in the corridor.

Truth be told, Harry couldn’t imagine the timid stuttering DADA teacher harming a fly, let alone killing a unicorn, but she wasn’t about to pretend as if the man wasn’t a bit iffy. Harry’s scar hurt every time she was near him and that was surely a cause for some concern.

Harry didn’t have a chance to share it with Ron until after Hermione got back, however. The same night she witnessed the professors arguing in the corridor she had also found the Mirror of Erised.

Understandably, she got a little sidetracked.

Even though Ron was excited by the discovery and eagerly shared with her what he saw, he clearly didn’t know what to do about Harry’s insistence to visit the magical artefact every day. But, short of sending her concerned looks, he let her do it, which was how Harry ended up being caught by the Headmaster.

The old wizard struck her as a bit barmy at first, but he seemed to recognize the emotion compelling her to visit the mirror almost immediately.

“Yearning, my dear Harry,” he told her with a smile that didn’t quite reach his bright blue eyes. “You wish for that which you have been missing your entire young life.”

At his words, Harry glanced at the mirror once again, her eyes watering slightly as she drank in the image of her parents once again. Before she never knew just how much like her father she looked or how her smile was her mother’s through and through.

“So the mirror... It shows us what we want to see?” She asked after a few minutes of silence.

Dumbledore hummed. “In a way, I suppose,” he agreed and then added, “But it’s not just want, my dear, not really. The mirror shows you only the truest deepest desire of your heart.”

 _Truest deepest desire_.

 _Truest_ deepest _desire_.

 _A family_ , Harry realized as a tear rolled down her cheek unbidden. _All I ever truly wanted was a family_.

“Now, my dear, I have to ask you to return to your bed, alight? It’s quite late already,” the professor said as he gently steered her away from the mirror. When she looked up, she found him gazing back at her. “I also want you to promise me that you won’t come looking for the Mirror again. It will be moved come morning and I don’t want you getting into trouble to find it.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry promised, feeling strangely exhausted as Dumbledore walked her back to the Gryffindor Tower in silence.

-

“How could I’ve been this _stupid_?” Hermione announced one day a week into the new semester.

Harry and Ron looked at her questioningly.

“I borrowed this _weeks ago_ for some light reading,” the witch said as she placed a very thick book on the table. “I can’t _believe_ I forgot about it!”

“ _This_ is _light_?” Ron mouthed to Harry, looking positively horrified, and she snickered.

Apparently Hermione’s light reading contained the much-need information about Nicolas Flamel. It also revealed what could be hidden on the third floor – the infamous Philosopher’s Stone.

“That makes sense,” Hermione mussed. “I mean, the stone can be used for a potion that could bring someone to life and we know whoever is after it, isn’t doing it for themselves, right?”

“They are helping Voldemort,” Harry said.

With a shudder, she remembered the monster in the Forbidden Forest, its lips glistening with the silvery unicorn blood. It wasn’t a far stretch to assume the dark wizard who had killed her parents would be willing to go to any lengths to gain back his life and power.

-

Everything came to a rather violent and unexpected end.

Harry looked at the back of Quirrell’s head and into the snake-like eyes of Lord Voldemort, feeling terrified and yet strangely calm all the same. When she, Ron, and Hermione embarked on this journey, they had asked Neville to call for a teacher if they weren’t back within an hour or two. She was fairly certain the boy went to find someone as soon as they were gone instead, so she knew help was coming.

Still, being in the room with the wizard responsible for her parents’ deaths, even if he was only a shadow, was frightening.

“Harley Potter, the Girl Who Lived. We meet at last,” Voldemort whispered, making her shiver. “Can you see what I have become? I can only appear when I take hold of someone’s body... The unicorn blood, it invigorated me. Kept me alive for a few weeks... You saw Quirrell drink it in the forest, didn’t you?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The revelation that it was Quirrell all along was jarring and she couldn’t wrap her head around it.

Quirrell who stuttered and tripped over his own legs.

Quirrell who shied away from people.

Quirrell who seemed kind, if weird.

Quirrell had tried to get Harry killed multiple times. He brought Voldemort to Hogwarts and wanted to help him get back to power.

It was shocking.

Even if Harry suspected there was something more to her DADA teacher, she never expected this.

“I need the Elixir of Life to create a new body...” continued Voldemort. “Now, be a good girl and give me the stone in your pocket!”

So he knew then. Harry managed to shake off the blood-freezing fear for long enough to take a few steps back. Voldemort continued to mock her, asking her to join him and not be stupid like her parents.

“LIAR!” She yelled when he accused the Potters of being cowards who begged for death. “That’s not true!”

They went back and forth for a while as Voldemort tried to coax her to yield. However, Harry wasn’t interested in joining the madman. She knew, deep down, that all his promises were lies. He couldn’t bring Harry’s parents back to life and, even if he could, she knew he wouldn’t.

With no help coming, Harry decided to run for it. She didn’t want to be here any longer. She needed to get out.

“Seize her! SEIZE HER!” Shrieked Voldemort as Quirrell tackled Harry to the ground. She felt the man’s hands close around her throat. The pain in her scar was blinding by this point, making her delirious. Not knowing what else to do, she caught Quirrell by the wrists, trying to peel his hands away from her neck.

The man howled in agony and finally let her go.

Through the haze of pain, Harry looked at his arms, finding them horribly blistered and almost burned to the bone. Without thinking, she lunged forward and pressed her hands against his face, prompting another horrifying yell. She held on as long as she could, closing her eyes when the pain in her scar reached a new level and almost knocked her out cold.

Before long Quirrell stopped fighting and Voldemort’s voice got fainter and fainter. Then, at last, the man collapsed on the floor, unmoving.

Harry stayed standing for a few more second, blinking slowly and trying to fight against a sudden sleepiness.

A moment later darkness claimed her as she closed her eyes and fell.

-

When she opened her eyes, she had to close them almost immediately. Everything was too bright.

“Ugh,” she groaned as she sat up and reached blindly for her glasses.

“Good morning, Harry,” someone said. She put the glasses on, blinked, and opened her eyes again.

Professor Dumbledore was sitting on a chair next to her bed.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Professor! The stone! It was Quirrell all along! He has it, we have to...!”

“My dear girl, calm down. He doesn’t have it, not at all.”

“Who does then, sir?”

“Harry, my dear, please calm down or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.”

Harry swallowed thickly and then looked around. She realized she must be in the Hospital Wing. She was laying in one of the beds, wrapped in a soft comforter. When she looked to the side, she spotted enough sweets piled up on the bedside table to fill a display in a candy store.

“Aa, those are the gifts from your friends and admirers, I believe,” Dumbledore said with a beaming smile. “Of course what happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally the whole school knows.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Three days. Miss Granger as well as Misters Weasley and Longbottom will be very happy that you woke up at last.”

“Are they alright?” She asked anxiously.

“I believe so. They’ve been worried about you though.”

“Oh, that’s, um, nice,” she said, secretly pleased. “But what about the stone, sir?”

“Ah, I see distracting you can only get me so far,” the old wizard said with amusement. “Alright, I will tell you.”

And he did. Dumbledore told Harry what had happened after she lost consciousness and explained why the stone had to be destroyed. She felt bad for the Flamels, but the professor quickly reassured her, saying that to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure, and Harry thought it did make sense, especially for people like Nicholas and Perenelle who had outlived their whole family a long time ago.

"Sir," said Harry hesitantly, "I've been thinking... and... even if the Stone's gone, Vol-um, I mean, You Know Who-"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he isn't gone, right?"

She would have liked if Dumbledore disagreed, but she knew better. It almost seemed inevitable now that Voldemort would try to come back and that he would stop at nothing before he killed Harry. The professor said as much and Harry wondered if it worried him as much as it worried her.

When the professor finished explaining why and how the dark wizard could return to power, she closed her eyes for a moment, hesitant to ask more questions, but the curiosity was killing her.

“Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about....”

“Truth,” Dumbledore sighed, “truth is powerful. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Why does Voldemort want to kill me? He said he only killed my mom because she stood in his way... But why? Why _me_?”

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day. For now, put it from your mind, Harry. When you are older... I know you hate to hear this, but when you are ready, you will know."

Harry grimaced, disappointed, but she knew it would be no good to argue.

“Alright. So why Quirrell couldn’t touch me?” She asked instead. “Does it have something to do with soulmates, sir?”

“A very good question,” the Headmaster said. “The answer is yes and no. No, because your mother protected you with her life. The only thing Voldemort doesn’t know, doesn’t understand, is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever and this protection is in your very skin." He smiled at her gently before continuing, "Yes, because your soul, the half in you, is pure... unburden, free from hate and greed... It’s full of love instead. You’re doubly gifted, my dear, and I imagine it was quite a shock for both Quirrell and Voldemort to come into contact with someone like that.”

Dumbledore turned away for a moment, giving Harry a chance to wipe away a few stray tears.

“And the Invisibility Cloak? Do you know who gave it to me?”

“Ah, that would be me,” the man responded, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Your father left it in my care and I thought you might find it useful. It’s a handy little thing, isn’t it? Your father mostly used it to sneak into the kitchen during his time at school.”

Harry smiled, trying to imagine the man she had seen in the Mirror of Erised as a boy her age.

“Quirrell said one more thing. About Professor Snape.”

“Oh?”

“He said the professor doesn’t like me... because he hated my father.”

“Yes, well, they did rather detest each other, I must admit. Not unlike yourself and young Mister Malfoy,” Dumbledore admitted. “But then, your father did something Professor Snape could never forgive and it complicated things even more."

"What did he do?"

"He saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. He looked as if he was far away, lost in a memory. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt and I do believe part of the reason he worked so hard to protect you this year is because he felt that would make him and your father even. It would make it easier for him to go back to hating your father's memory in peace.” He smiled at her gently. “That being said, I hardly think he dislikes you, Harry. In fact, he speaks quite highly of your progress in his class!”

“Really?” She exclaimed, eyes wide in shock. It didn’t make much sense, to be honest.

“Not in so many words,” Dumbledore said with a conspiratorial wink. “But yes, I do think you’ve made quite an impression on him. And, if I’m not mistaken, he made an impression on you too.”

Harry thought back to the first Potion class and then compared it with the most recent one.

To be honest, it was hard to believe that the same teacher taught her then and now. While Snape was certainly still mean at times and easy to anger, he seemed to have mellowed a little. According to older students, he had also adapted a different teaching strategy this year. He was less prone to rude comments, he mostly left the students alone, and he started awarding points. Apparently it had all started with Harry’s class and then slowly but surely spread to the rest. Some students were even convinced that it was Snape’s long-lost nicer twin brother who was teaching them now.

Harry also knew that the Potions Master had worked hard to protect her from Quirrell, going as far as to referee a Quidditch game in order to keep an eye on her. Whether he had done it simply to repay a life debt or for some other reason didn’t really matter.

She smiled a little. “Yeah, he did.”

She could be mistaken, but she thought Dumbledore smiled at that too.

After one more question regarding the clever spellwork used to hide the stone, the professor left and Harry fell asleep with a smile on her face, feeling somehow lighter and happier.

-

Harry was still giddy with the unexpected win of the House Cup when the last day of term rolled around. The Slytherins were bitter about the loss. She would have felt bad for them, as the win didn’t seem fair, but she wasn’t so happy about the additional points awarded by the Headmaster at the last possible moment to really care for fairness. The cheerful atmosphere and her own good mood helped dull the ache she felt when she thought about having to go back to 4 Privet Drive.

When it was time to leave, Hagrid offered to walk with them to the station and kept apologizing for putting Harry in danger.

“I should’ve known better, yeh know,” he repeated over and over again, but Harry dismissed it every time. It wasn’t really his fault, after all.

Finally it was time to board the train. Before she disappeared inside, Hagrid pulled her aside and pressed a beautiful leather-bound book into her hands. Harry peered inside, finding it to be full of magical photographs.

Her parents’ smiling faces greeted her from each page.

“Eh sent the owls to the’r friends, asking for pictures... Eh knew yeh don’t have any. Do yeh like it?”

Harry couldn’t say a word, but Hagrid seem to understand. She hugged him tightly to say goodbye and then went to find her friends.

Despite everything, she had a feeling it was going to be a good summer.


	2. 1992/1993

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer: I obviously don’t own the Harry Potter franchise and I’m making no profit from this story.**  
> 
> 
> Here you go, guys! Year Two in all its glory!
> 
> Things are still relatively close to canon. The action starts to pick up in Year Three (which is already written and so long that I'll have to cut it into three parts lol) and that's where the first big changes happen, but this was still incredibly fun to write. I just love exploring the HP universe, adding my own spin on things :D
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments and don't forget to leave kudos and subscribe!

This was without doubt the worst summer of her life.

Harry had had bad summers before, of course. Her family didn’t really let her enjoy them in the past, really, and the ones she had good memories of were still barely tolerable. Even though she had hoped something would change now, nothing really did.

The list of chores she had to complete was usually twice as long during holidays as she didn’t have to go to school. The Dursleys also tended to be a bit more heavy-handed if she messed something up, since they didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing a bruise or two. Although they have never really beaten her, Aunt Petunia liked to smack her with a towel or a wooden spoon sometimes and Uncle Vernon had cuffed her on the head a few times in the past. As if that wasn’t miserable enough, Harry ended up going to bed hungry most days as neither her Aunt nor Uncle seemed particularly fond of feeding her anything other than scraps.

Still, it was never like this before.

Granted, Harry couldn’t fault them for being a bit peeved about the whole dinner fiasco. Truth be told, she was pretty angry about it too. If she ever saw Dobby again, she was sure she would end up strangling the House Elf with her bare hands.

Unfortunately, there was little she could do about this mess. No amount of apologies would make the Dursleys less angry. So she just sat quietly in her room – or rather Dudley’s second bedroom that had been graciously given to her – and wondered if one could die of boredom.

Uncle Vernon had taken her trunk away and hid it in the cupboard under the stairs right after they arrived home from the station. Thankfully, Harry had managed to sneak out some textbooks, a few rolls of parchment, and her writing utensils, but working on her summer assignments in secret wasn’t enough to distract her. More often than not, she ended up staring at the parchment with half-written paragraphs or at the pages in her books without really reading anything, feeling sorry for herself and wishing for the first of September to come already.

At least she now knew her friends had been writing to her. They hadn’t forgotten about her like she feared they did. She read through all the letters Dobby left behind – smiling fondly at Ron’s short notes about his day, Hermione’s retellings of her summer spent in France, and at Neville’s surprisingly witty anecdotes about his grandma – but she had no way of responding to them. Hedwig was locked in the bedroom with her and the only window in the small room had bars in it, which successfully stopped her from sending out any correspondence of her own.

It was, all in all, a disaster. If she ever got out, she promised herself she would never make the Dursleys so angry again. Although it wasn’t her fault this time around and they doubtlessly deserved some retribution for years of treating her like dirt, it just wasn’t worth it.

Thankfully, Ron and the twins came to liberate her from the prison of her own room before Harry lost her mind. They appeared at her window in the middle of the night in a flying car they had nicked from their father and helped her get her things before whisking her away from Little Whinging.

If Harry ever had any doubts about her friendship with the Weasleys, they were long gone now.

When they arrived at the Burrow in the early hours of the morning, Harry was tired, but happy.

Mrs Weasley yelled a lot at her kids for pulling such a stupid stunt, but she was really nice to Harry. She hugged her and asked if she was hungry and then fed her a full English breakfast. Her cooking was better than anything Harry has ever eaten in her life before and she was so warm and kind... the way a mother should be, really, at least in Harry’s opinion and very limited experience.

As there wasn’t enough space, Harry was delegated to share a room with Ron’s younger sister, Ginny. The youngest Weasley was rather timid and acted a bit shy at first, but they ended up bonding over their mutual love for Quidditch rather quickly and spent many nights discussing the game and their favourite teams.

To Harry’s amazement, the Weasleys even had a makeshift Quidditch pitch in their backyard! After completing whatever tasks Mrs Weasley assigned them that day, they were all allowed to use it to play a few games or to just fly around.

Her summer holidays saved, Harry let herself enjoy the reminder of it. Even working on homework was exciting as she finally had access to all her supplies and didn’t have to rely on the meagre light from her bedside lamp to complete the work. Ron thought she was crazy for wanting to study, but he did sit with her to write his own essays without much complaining.

Before long it was time to get ready for the new school year. Of course Harry ended up completely butchering her first attempt at Floo travel and landed herself in the Knockturn Alley, barely escaping the place unscratched. She had no idea why Draco Malfoy and his father would be prancing around that street or that shop, but it probably wasn’t for any good reason, that’s for sure. It was blind luck she had met Hagrid at the mouth of the alley and that he was able to help her find the Weasleys.

“Oh my dear girl,” Mrs Weasley fussed as she checked Harry over for any injuries and then kissed the top of her head, obviously relieved to see her unharmed. “You gave us quite a fright, I’d say! Please, please be more careful in the future!”

“I will... sorry, Mrs Weasley,” Harry mumbled, blushing furiously at the attention. Nobody has ever cared whether she was hurt or not, and it felt nice.

They continued the shopping trip as planned, going from store to store and having fun. At one point they even ran into Hermione and her parents, and the Grangers joined them in the last two stores. Harry noticed, amused, that Mr Weasley was more than happy to talk with Hermione’s parents. She suspected it wasn’t every day he met with Muggles and it was doubtlessly very exciting for him. The Grangers didn’t seem overly bothered by neither his enthusiasm nor his questions, and patiently answered all of his questions.

They were at Flourish and Blotts when Harry landed herself in trouble again. Well, _trouble_ maybe wasn’t the best word for it – it was nothing compared to being locked in a room for two weeks after a rowdy House Elf dropped a cake on the head Uncle Vernon’s business associate or appearing in a fireplace of a questionably reputable shop – but she hated it all the same.

She really, really didn’t like being famous. She also didn’t fancy being photographed while she was covered in soot from head to toe while a total stranger who smelled very strongly of roses chattered to her about his books.

Gilderoy Lockhart was a very weird man and Harry wasn’t looking forward to having him as one of her teachers. However, both Mrs Weasley and Hermione were very excited to meet him and encouraged Harry to be nice, which made Harry and Ron roll their eyes in exasperation.

Then, to wrap up the day with a bang, they had a bit of a confrontation with Malfoy and his father. Having apparently finished whatever business they were conducting in Knockturn Alley, they had decided to harass people for the fun of it and started picking on the Weasleys. At least now Harry understood where Draco got his attitude from and why it always seemed as if he was putting on airs.

Harry pretended not to be afraid of Lucius Malfoy, but she was, very much so, and she had to admit he was one scary individual. He seemed cold and calculating, and exactly the type of person who would hurt people for no reason. She didn’t like how he stared at people down his nose either. Being at least wary of him was self-preservation, really. Still, she stood her ground in defence of her friends, but her hands were shaking the entire time and sighed in relief when father and son finally left them alone.

Lucius Malfoy looked like he was up to something, she felt, and the thought made a chill ran down her spine.

-

The trolley bounced off the barrier separating Platform 9 ¾ from the rest of King’s Cross station. Her trunk and Hedwig’s cage fell to the ground with a loud clank and Harry followed them, landing on her butt. The scene garnered a lot of curious onlookers. It also gained the attention of the guard who came over to investigate the commotion.

“Oi, you two! What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“I-I just lost control of it, sorry,” Harry mumbled as she got up, discreetly massaging her bruised behind.

The man narrowed his eyes, clearly not quite believing her story, but he seemed satisfied with the answer as he left a moment later. Ron went to fetch Hedwig from where she had rolled away in her cage. The owl was causing enough noise to make some people grumble about animal cruelty.

“It’s not working,” Harry whispered in panic when Ron handed her the cage. “ _Why_ isn’t it working?”

“No idea, but it’s not good.” He seemed equally scared.

They looked around. The Muggles were looking at them and continued to whisper among themselves.

“We’re going to be late for the train,” her friend said in horror as he glanced at one of the huge clocks mounted on the nearby wall. Harry looked at it too and felt something twist unpleasantly in her stomach

Ten seconds... nine seconds...

She righted the trolley and put all her things back on it while keeping an eye on the clock.

Three seconds... two seconds... one second...

“It’s gone.” Ron’s voice was full of disbelief. “The train, it’s _gone_! What if Mom and Dad can’t go back? What should we do?”

Harry had no answer to that, but she knew they couldn’t stay here any longer. The people gathered around them were still staring, mostly because Hedwig was screeching her head off, sounding as if someone was skinning her alive.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “We can wait for your parents near the car. We’re causing a-”

“Harry!” Ron enthused. “The car!”

“What about it?”

“We can use it to get to Hogwarts!”

“Wha- But I thought...”

“We’re stuck here, right?” Ron asked as he led the way into the parking lot. “And we need to get to school, right? Even underage witches and wizards can use magic in special cases! There’s a paragraph for that, I think. In that Statue of Secrecy thing-y.”

As they couldn’t come up with a better plan, Harry went along with Ron’s crazy scheme, mostly because she didn’t know what else to do. One part of her really wanted to wait for Mr and Mrs Weasley, but another was scared she and Ron would be stranded on the station forever if they didn’t get a move on.

Ron’s reassurance that he knew how to fly his father’s car proved to be kind of true, at least. After a few initial hiccups they were en-route to Hogwarts. They even managed to catch up with the Hogwarts Express after a while and followed it all the way to Hogsmeade. After a brief if frightful encounter with a murderous tree, they got their bags and trotted up to the main entrance.

They were late for the beginning of the Welcoming Feast, but just in time for the Sorting Ceremony, which they were able to observe from the Entrance Hall.

Harry was of the opinion that being slightly late was preferable to the alternative. They were here, alive and whole, and that was the most important part, even if Mr Weasley’s car was gone, probably for good, and they were almost smashed to death by an enchanted tree with a particularly vicious streak. After all, a near death experience was surely better than missing school. She could only hope they would be able to sneak in without anyone noticing their absence.

Of course the moment the thought entered her mind, someone spoke from behind them.

“Why, pray tell, have you two not arrived on the train with the rest of the students?”

She and Ron turned around. Harry gulped nervously and Ron’s already pale face lost all colour when they noticed Professor Snape standing a few steps away, his black teaching robes swaying in the breeze coming through from outside.

The man was clearly furious and the nasty smile on his face didn’t help in dispelling the notion. In fact, he radiated the type of energy that let you know you were screwed six ways from Sunday without having to say a word.

She was also sure that, were it possible, he would be blowing steam out of his nose like a vexed dragon – that’s just how angry he looked.

“Well, I-I... I mean, we... I mean...” Harry tried to come up with an excuse, but it seemed to be a lost cause as she was unable to string together a coherent sentence.

“Yes? Do tell, Miss Potter,” Snape said through clenched teeth. “I’m all ears.”

Harry thought that he was rather all nose, but luckily, she managed to refrain from pointing that out.

“Nothing to say? How... unfortunate. Let us hope at least one of you can come up with something by the time we get to the Headmaster’s office. I am sure both he and your Head of House will be delighted to hear whatever explanation you manage to concoct.”

With that Snape motioned them to follow him.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, both of them knowing they were in deep shit.

The professor led them pass the Great Hall, up the stairs, and onto the seventh floor. He stopped right in front of a gargoyle statue and murmured something under his breath that made the stone creature move aside, revealing a spiralling staircase. When they stepped onto it, it began to move up on its own.

When they reached the top, Snape knocked on the door at the end of a short corridor and then walked right in without waiting for an answer. The two Gryffindors followed after him with trepidation.

Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were already waiting for them inside. They seemed to be in a middle of an argument, but stopped at once when they noticed they had company.

“Good evening, Miss Potter, Mister Weasley,” the Headmaster said with a friendly smile. Harry felt a little less nervous as Dumbledore didn’t seem to be particularly angry. In fact, he looked quite amused.

“Good evening, sir,” they responded quietly.

“I must say I’m glad you both managed to get here unharmed,” the old wizard said, his eyes twinkling. “Although, I would still like to know why you felt the need to use Mr Weasley’s car instead of the train.”

“Well, you see, professor... There was, um, a thing with the barrier at the station,” Harry started to explain. “For some reason it wouldn’t let us-”

“And what, you couldn’t have simply waited for Mister Weasley’s parents?” Snape interrupted her, clearly exasperated. He procured a copy of the _Evening Prophet_ from somewhere within his robes, pointing to the front page where FLYING FORD ANGLIA CAUSES SENSATION AMONG MUGGLES was written in big bold letters. The picture below the catchy headline showed the car speeding across the sky and then suddenly disappearing. “At least _four_ Muggles saw you flying that thing!”

Harry cringed. That indeed sounded quite bad.

“On top of that,” the Potions Master continued, “you have managed to seriously damage the Whomping Willow, which has been on this property longer than you have been alive!”

“Honestly, Professor Snape, that bloody tree did more damage to us...” mumbled Ron under his breath.

The comment made Snape look like he was just pushed to the verge of completely losing whatever patience he had left. Fortunately, before he could tear into Ron for being disrespectful and swearing on top of that, Professor McGonagall spoke, “I think you have made your point quite clear, Severus. There’s no need to shout.”

Then she turned her eyes on Harry and Ron, and gestured to the chairs in front of the Headmaster’s desk. “Sit down and do explain yourselves, please,” she instructed them sternly.

Feeling embarrassed about the whole situation after Snape’s dressing-down, Harry told them the entire story from the start. She spoke to her knees the whole time and didn’t dare look up, afraid she would start crying otherwise. When she was finished, she hesitantly glanced at Ron through her fringe, but her friend too was looking down.

“That is quite a story,” Dumbledore said. He didn’t sound as amused anymore. “I hope you realize how lucky you are and that it won’t happen again. As your Head of House, Professor McGonagall will be in charge of your punishment.”

“Are you going to expel us?” Harry blurted out, unable to stop herself.

“No, Miss Potter. Not today.”

Hardly believing her luck, Harry chanced a look at the older witch. She did look disappointed, but at least she didn’t seem very angry.

“As this happened before you two got into school, I won’t be taking any points,” Professor McGonagall said. “But you will serve detention. I will inform you about the details tomorrow. For now, I want you to eat your dinner here and then get straight to your dormitories. I have to get back to the feast.”

“Um, professor?” Ron spoke up hesitantly. “M-my sister, Ginny. S-she’s a first year and-”

“And she was sorted into Gryffindor, Mister Weasley. Congratulations,” McGonagall interrupted him, smiling a little. Then she left the room, taking Snape with her.

Harry and Ron ate their dinner in silence while Professor Dumbledore worked on some paperwork. When they were done, he walked them to the Gryffindor Tower.

“I believe the password is honeyeater,” the professor told them. Harry noted with relief that he was smiling again. “I trust you won’t land yourself in trouble again. Sleep well.”

“Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir,” they responded in unison before entering the Common Room.

The place was packed with people who started clapping enthusiastically the moment Harry and Ron came in. Some of their housemates yelled their congratulations while others patted them on the shoulders.

Hermione was standing at the back of the group near the entrance to the girls’ dormitories and she was looking both worried and impressed.

“So you weren’t expelled for crashing a flying car into a tree?” She asked them in lieu of a greeting.

“Good to see you too, ‘Mione,” Ron said with a grin. “And nah, we only ended up getting a detention from McGonagall. Though, Snape yelled up a bloody storm. The lungs on that one, I swear...”

“You’re very lucky. Very stupid too,” Hermione said to that. “You could have _died_!”

“They’re amazing, that’s what they are,” Fred Weasley said as he and his twin pushed through the crowd to get to them. George added, “This is legendary, unprecedented! Brilliant even! We’re so proud of you, Ronnie!”

Ron basked in his brothers’ praise for a moment longer before it was time for everyone to call it a night. They didn’t need McGonagall to come in and find them celebrating when they were supposed to have gone straight to beds.

Harry went with Hermione after bidding Ron a quick goodnight and she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

-

The Howler from a very angry Mrs Weasley arrived early the next morning. She yelled at Ron, expressed her concern over Harry’s wellbeing, and congratulated Ginny on her Sorting in one breath.

As a result, Ron’s mood worsened considerably and he was very quiet for most of the week, barely speaking a word to anyone and grumbling at both his sister and Harry as if they were somehow responsible for his misfortune.

Harry did feel guilty. She knew she should have insisted on waiting for Ron’s parents instead of agreeing to fly the car. She also spent a lot of time thinking about the kindness the Weasleys had showed her this summer and how she repaid it. Mr Weasley not only lost his car, but he was now awaiting investigation at work and Ron’s wand was broken beyond repair.

Unfortunately there was nothing she could do about any of those things. She had tried offering to pay for Ron’s new wand, as a thank-you for saving her during summer if nothing else, but her seemed embarrassed by the offer and only muttered that there was no need, and that was the end of it.

Harry didn’t feel it was her place to push it, so she didn’t mention it again, hoping that over time Ron’s mood would improve on its own and he would stop acting like a prat.

-

Gilderoy Lockhart was an eyesore.

There was nothing about him – from his ridiculous extravagant robes through his just-so tousled gold curls to his wide blinding smile – that Harry really cared for. He also was just the type of person who grated on everyone’s nerves without realizing, or caring, that he did it, which only added to her dislike of him.

Frankly, she just wanted him as far away from herself as possible. Of course, the infuriating man had other ideas.

He started on the first day of school right before Herbology. Despite protests, he took Harry aside to talk with her about hunger for fame or other such nonsense for _fifteen minutes straight_. Honestly, he was even more of a nuisance than she expected and her expectations weren’t high to begin with! His ability to show all of his too-white, perfect teeth even when he wasn’t smiling creeped her out and whatever perfume he used gave her a headache.

He was also a horribly incompetent teacher. He proved quite early on that he wouldn’t know how to properly cast a spell if someone directed his hand, so instead he read parts of his many books to the class and made them act out some of the more heroic parts. Harry was somehow always robbed into participating and she hated it.

Then there were the quizzes. Oh the quizzes! Harry had no idea how knowing Lockhart’s favourite colour or the exact number of times he had been featured on the cover of Witch Weekly could help his students fight against Dark Magic. That is, unless Lord Voldemort suddenly decided to change his career path and took his chances at being a model.

Why Hermione and, to Harry’s horror, the vast majority of female students, idolized Lockhart so much was anyone’s guess. For the first time ever, Harry couldn’t stand living with other girls and she desperately wished that she could share a dorm with Ron.

The girl’s dormitory was where she had first talked to Hermione and got to know her better, resulting in their friendship. It was supposed to be a safe haven where they could talk for hours undisturbed about their fascination with magic and share experiences from their Muggle childhoods.

Unfortunately, her friend, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil, decided it was also a perfect place to gossip about and fawn over Lockhart. Harry swore she was going to scream bloody murder if she heard them babble about the man’s blond hair or cute smile one more time.

It was not as if she couldn’t see that he was relatively handsome – she wasn’t _that_ blind, thank you very much – but she just didn’t find him attractive at all, so hearing the other girls wax poetic about his good looks got very old very fast.

To top it all off, Snape was particularly snappy during lessons, resulting in Neville melting another cauldron and two minor explosions, caused by Ron and Seamus.

The reason for that became apparent when Harry realized someone thought it would be a brilliant idea to pair the Potions Master with their idiot of a DADA teacher for monitoring duty during breakfast. Professor Snape wasn’t exactly a morning person – she knew for a fact he had skipped almost every breakfast last year and he was insufferable during any classes that took place before 10am. Adding Lockhart into the mix was just asking for trouble, even if it was quite entertaining to watch him talk at Snape while the man stared murderously at his plate and drank his tea or coffee in the most passive-aggressive way Harry had ever seen.

In other words, the year was shaping up to be eventful and the first month of term wasn’t even over yet.

-

It was a truth universally acknowledged by any self-respecting Gryffindor that Draco Malfoy was a spoiled entitled brat with little to no regard for other people. However, Harry was still shocked when he called Hermione a Mudblood.

Ron, who came to Hermione’s defence and was now spitting slugs into a bucket as a result, courtesy of his broken wand, explained to them why the term was so offensive and Harry felt a righteous anger built up within her on behalf of her female best friend.

Hermione wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. She was a bit snotty, a know-it-all, and she could be positively insufferable at times, especially before tests, so Harry knew that the girl got on other people’s nerves sometimes – especially Ron’s – but she was also kind and smart, and loyal to a fault. And, to be completely honest, even if she had been horrible, she didn’t deserve to be treated this way. Nobody did.

If only a teacher had heard!

Harry knew that using that term was cause for detention and point loss as she had seen Snape blow a gasket over it a time or two when one of the Slytherins used it in his presence. Knowing what the word meant now, it was really no wonder why, as the professor didn’t seem to be a particular fan of name-calling in general.

She wondered sometimes what had made the abrasive Potions Master such a stout opponent of bullying. Other teachers, while certainly firmly against it, had never acted the way Snape did. They would punish the offender, but they didn’t seem to take the matter personally. For whatever reason, Snape did. Harry would have loved to know why.

-

The feeling something bad was about to happen mounted within Harry over the next couple of weeks.

She was cleaning in the Trophy Room with Ron as part of the detention assigned by Professor McGonagall when she had heard the sibilant disembodied voice for the first time, but she dismissed it as a fluke back then. It had sounded like an echo and she thought little of it for the next few days. Then she started hearing it with rising frequency. The voice became more coherent until, on Halloween, right after she left Nearly Headless Nick’s Deathday Party with her friends, it started to speak about murder.

In her infinite wisdom, Harry decided follow it.

The voice led her, Ron, and Hermione to the wet corridor on the second floor where they found the prone form of Mrs Norris pinned to a wall.

Harry didn’t particularly like the cat, but seeing it all stiff and hanging by the scruff of its neck was horrible all the same. The bloody writing on the wall – bloody as in written in _actual blood, dear Merlin_!– stated that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again and warned everyone to be wary of its Heir. Although she didn’t understand the full meaning behind this message, it sounded foreboding.

Before the trio had a chance to make themselves scarce, the teachers, Mr Filch, and what looked like at least half the school arrived at the scene.

The old caretaker wailed over his cat and spluttered accusations left and right until Professor Dumbledore told him to calm down and be quiet. Apparently the cat wasn’t dead, just petrified, and a potion could be made to reverse the paralysis as soon as Professor Sprout’s Mandrakes matured. The Headmaster then dismissed the crowd of onlookers and turned his attention to Harry and her friends. He asked them a lot of questions and seemed very interested in why they weren’t present at the Halloween Feast like the rest of the students and staff, though something told the girl he wasn’t really all that surprised to find the three of them in the thick of whatever trouble was a-brewing.

Snape came to their defence out of nowhere, stating they might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and thus there was really no need to waste time interrogating them. He fixed Harry with a look as if daring her to contradict him, but she knew better. She had learnt by this point that her Potions teacher had his reasons for doing certain things, but they were as elusive as the man himself and trying to decipher them would only confuse her more.

In the end, they were sent to bed and advised to be careful.

The rumours about what happened to Mrs Norris on Halloween as well as the ominous message on the wall in the second floor corridor became the centre of gossip over the next few days. Nobody seemed sure what it meant, which finally prompted Hermione to ask their Head of House about it at the beginning of their next Transfiguration lesson.

Professor McGonagall hesitated, but ended up telling them the legend about the Chamber of Secrets and its creator, Salazar Slytherin. Unwittingly, she gave Harry and her friends an idea where to look for answers. The only person they knew of that fit the description of Slytherin’s Heir was Draco Malfoy. They did share the same prejudiced views regarding blood purity, after all.

Sadly, they had no way of confirming their suspicion. Malfoy wasn’t stupid enough to share something like this on the public forum, so the only chance to learn the truth would be to spy on him in a more private setting.

It was Hermione who came up with the solution in the form of a potion that could drastically alter someone’s appearance. Using it, they could easily slip into the Slytherin Common Room and acquire the information they needed.

There were two main issues with that plan.

The first was the ridiculously long list of rare ingredients used in the Polyjuice Potion. However, judging by the glint in Hermione’s eyes the Muggleborn witch had a plan for that too. For some reason, Harry strongly suspected it had something to do with stealing from Snape and so she didn’t ask any questions. The less she knew the better.

The second was that the brewing of the complicated potion took a month, so it wasn’t a quick fix and they had to be patient.

Harry could only hope nothing would happen in that time.

-

The first Quidditch game of the season took place mid-November and Harry felt as nervous about it as last year if not more.

The Slytherins all had new brooms, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy who decided to buy his son a spot on the team. Harry had no idea how good the younger Malfoy was at flying, but she suspected he was at least plausible. Slytherins didn’t strike her as dumb enough to let him join the team otherwise.

She had never wanted to win a game quite as much too, if only to show up Malfoy and the rest of his house. Of course she wasn’t the only one who wanted to best Slytherin. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team captain, seemed to have fully descended into madness in the weeks leading to the game and worked them all hard enough that Harry sometimes made it back to her dormitory only through sheer stubbornness alone as she was too exhausted to think straight.

Malfoy turned out to be decent on the broom. However, he spent way too much time trying to rile Harry up and not nearly enough of it paying attention to the game, which led Harry to the conclusion that while he was a good player, he probably wasn’t the best choice for Seeker.

Eventually the snitch appeared right next to the boy’s ear. The fathead had no idea until Harry zoomed pass him, hand outstretched. They ended up racing all over the stadium in hot pursuit of the small golden ball. As she flew next to Malfoy, she noticed absentmindedly that one of the bludgers seemed very intent on following them around, but she ignored it, thinking it might have been sent their way by the Beaters.

She was disabused of this notion when the damned thing slammed into her right arm the moment she managed to catch the snitch. As it happened way too close to the ground, there was no chance the Beaters from either team were responsible for it. Harry fell off the broom and rolled around in the dirt, trying desperately to avoid the bludger which was still following her. Thankfully, someone managed to destroy the thing with a well-placed Blasting Hex before it could wreck more damage or outright kill her. Harry paid no mind to the identity of her saviour as she was by that point too busy trying not to faint.

Her arm hurt like hell. The appendage was bent at an odd angle and Harry fought hard against the sudden wave of nausea, caused partially by the sight of the disfiguration caused by the broken bones and partially by the pulsating, horrid pain. Still, she somehow managed to hold up her healthy arm, the one holding the snitch, to let the referee know the game was over. A moment later Madame Hooch whistled loudly, calling a win for Gryffindor, and the people in the stands started cheering.

As she listened to the commotion, she wondered briefly when someone would notice that she needed help.

Then, as if summoned, Professor Lockhart appeared in her line of vision.

“Not to worry, Harley, my dear! I know just what to do!” He said brightly, brandishing his wand.

Harry shook her head weakly. “No. Not you. Please, not you...” she whispered, eyes wide, but it was already too late. Lockhart murmured a spell as he touched Harry’s arm with the tip of his wand.

A moment later her arm flopped uselessly into her lap. The pain was gone, but her arm looked like jell-o.

“What have you done, you complete imbecile?” Someone growled to Harry’s left. When she turned in that direction, she saw Professor Snape crouching beside her, wand out, and looking ready to hex the shit out of Lockhart.

“Well, I-I... Um, you know. At least, er, it doesn’t hurt?” Her Defence teacher mumbled in response. He looked a little pale and nervous as he got up and took a few cautious steps away, likely sensing he was in mortal danger.

“Of course it doesn’t, you dimwit! She has NO BONES LEFT TO HURT!” Snape bellowed, his cheeks turning a nasty shade of red in anger. He then turned to Harry and asked in a deceptively calm voice, “Miss Potter, do you feel anything?”

Harry shook her head. Snape made a face and then started waving his wand around, muttering spells under his breath. Madame Pomfrey arrived a moment later. She sat down on Harry’s other side and immediately started asking questions as she did a few spells of her own.

To Harry’s dismay, there was no counter spell that could be used to reverse Lockhart’s butchered attempt at help. Instead she had to drink a foul-tasting potion called Skele-Gro that would make the bones in her arms grow back in a few hours. To make matters even worse, there was also apparently no way of making bone regrowth less painful as Skele-Gro couldn’t be combined with any pain relief potions.

“I’m sorry, my dear. At least all the bones are gone, so it shouldn’t take that long,” the Mediwitch had told Harry with a sad smile as she helped the girl settle in the Hospital Wing for the night.

Hearing this, Harry resigned herself to hours of no sleep and a lot of pain. She was really tempted to ask Professor Snape to actually hex Lockhart. For some reason, she strongly suspected the request would have been granted, so it was maybe worth a shot.

It was the middle of the night and Harry was finally nodding off when Dobby suddenly appeared next to her bed, startling her badly.

She wasn’t overly surprised to see him.

He admitted he was responsible for charming the bludger _and_ for blocking the barrier at King’s Cross without much prompting, claiming he had done so to protect Harry from whatever was happening at Hogwarts. To Harry it looked like the elf was trying to get her killed instead.

He did apologize for hurting her though, which would have counted more if she wasn’t currently in quite so much pain and very exhausted.

“You better leave before my bones do grow back,” Harry informed Dobby, eyes narrowed. “Or I might just strangle you for the amount of trouble you got me into this year!”

“Oh no, no! Dobby didn’t want that! Dobby wanted to protect Miss Harley Potter! Only protect!” The elf cried in despair, looking at her imploringly with his big watery eyes. “Dobby means Miss Harley Potter no harm, no harm at all!”

“Then leave me alone,” she told him. “I’m already at Hogwarts, Dobby, and I’m still alive, right? What’s the worst that can happen?”

Apparently, a lot could, as Colin Creevey, a first-year Gryffindor who took to following Harry around with his camera like a lost puppy, was petrified that night. He had apparently tried to get to the Hospital Wing to pay Harry a visit.

In a sense, he ended up getting his wish.

Watching him lay in a bed with the camera clutched tightly in his stiff hands, Harry vowed that she would give him the autograph he had wanted so much and pose for however many pictures he would want as soon as he was alright again.

-

When Harry was discharged from the Hospital Wing a few days later, her mind still preoccupied by irrational guilt over what happened to Colin, Ron and Hermione were waiting for her outside.

“You’ll never believe what Dumbledore announced!” Ron said, looking like he was about to jump out of his own skin in excitement.

“We came to the Common Room this morning to find a flyer about a duelling club,” said Hermione. She appeared equally excited. “The Headmaster confirmed during breakfast it will be available for everyone, even younger students!”

“ _Duelling Club_!” Ron emphasised. “That’s going to be bloody brilliant!”

They told her all about what was written about the club on the way to lunch. Harry had to admit it actually sounded great.

Unfortunately, as the current Defence teacher, Lockhart was put in charge of the activity, making Harry wonder if perhaps Professor Dumbledore was out of his mind. He had to know Lockhart was probably the worst person to instruct them! The man couldn’t even handle a bunch of ordinary pixies so how was he supposed to teach them anything useful about duelling when he probably knew close to nothing about it himself?

It was a good thing the Headmaster at least thought to assign Lockhart an assistant, though it became obvious quite quickly during the first club meeting that the assistant was actually more knowledgeable than the person in charge. To be fair, Harry had a feeling Professor Snape was a better dueller than most wizards and witches alive and he seemed to carry a personal vendetta of some sort against Lockhart. In other words, the Defence professor didn’t stand a chance.

They arrived at the Great Hall after dinner. The flyer instructed everyone to dress down as additional fabric apparently tended to get in the way.

Even Snape wasn’t wearing his teaching robes, but instead donned a black fitted frockcoat and black dress trousers. Lockhart, on the other hand, seemed to have ignored the instruction altogether and looked like a preening peacock. The shimmery periwinkle cape he wore on top of his supposedly more casual clothes only added to the image.

The meeting started with a spar between the two professors that was supposed to serve as a demonstration. However, it was over before it really started, much to Harry’s amusement. She grinned when Lockhart was thrown back and flew through the air with the force the Potions Master put behind the Disarming Charm.

Alright, so maybe the Headmaster wasn’t that crazy.

Harry suspected it was only a matter of time before Snape would have jinxed Lockhart anyway, so at least the students learnt something while watching him throw the insufferable man around under the pretence of teaching them. It was, all in all, a rather smart move.

Snape seemed to be enjoying himself as much, if not more, than Harry. It was the first time she saw him smiling – not the usual barely-there smirk or an angry snarl that showed way too much teeth, but an honest-to-Merlin, happy smile that lit up his whole face and reached his dark eyes. It made him look younger, less harsh, and somewhat appealing, if she were to be completely honest.

Harry wouldn’t call him handsome, not really, but there was something undeniably charming about him when he smiled like that.

Truth be told, it was a good look on him and it was a shame he didn’t smile more often, she decided.

-

Finding out that speaking to snakes was apparently considered Dark Arts was eventful. Harry kind of knew she could talk to and understand snakes before even coming to Hogwarts, of course, but she never thought much about it and never considered it weird or malevolent.

Harry was angry at Lockhart for picking her to fight against Malfoy, she was angry at Malfoy for using Serpensortia, and she was angry at the students who thought being a Parselmouth made her a bad person by default.

Honestly! What was wrong with some people?

When Justin Finch-Fletchley was found petrified like Mrs Norris only a week later, it got much worse. Justin was the student the snake summoned by Malfoy had wanted to attack. Harry had only tried to stop it from biting the Hufflepuff boy, but nobody believed her.

In a few short days she became the unofficial pariah of the school. Thank Merlin Ron, Hermione, and Neville were such loyal friends, because she would have been completely alone otherwise.

The fact students avoided her like she had the plague was beneficial though. For one, they could continue working on the Polyjuice Potion in the second floor girl’s bathroom undisturbed.

It was a shame brewing it proved to be for naught. Malfoy wasn’t Slytherin’s Heir and knew nothing about their identity. On top of that, Hermione had to seek help from Madame Pomfrey as she had ingested the potion with cat fur instead of human hair, and the mixture was apparently only meant for human-to-human transformations.

For the first time, Harry felt really lost. With Hermione getting treatment in the Hospital Wing and Ron being very unhelpful with any new ideas, they were stuck in place while someone continued to work hard to shut down Hogwarts for good.

They were no closer to finding out who was behind the attacks and the clock was ticking.

-

Harry hid in her dormitory for most of Valentine’s Day, trying to avoid any more encounters with the tacky cherubs that Lockhart released into the school to help everyone celebrate the holiday.

Ginny Weasley, of all people, sent her a Valentine. The girl didn’t even have to sign it. Her reaction alone was enough to let Harry know it was her.

It was the most embarrassing thing ever. Not because Harry had anything against the girl or was disgusted by the notion of another girl having a crush on her. It was just not something she wanted at this time. Plus the poem the little winged bugger sang to her in the middle of the Great Hall was among the worst crimes committed against poetry in this decade at least.

She blushed a bit.

The compliment about her eyes hidden somewhere in the horrible rhymes was pretty nice though.

-

Months rolled by.

The rumour about Harry’s alleged relation to Slytherin didn’t die down and people continued to avoid her.

She took to avoiding them too.

She was wandering aimlessly in the castle on a bright Sunday morning at the beginning of March, trying to do just that, when she came upon a diary. To be honest, she didn’t know what compelled her to pick it up, open it and write in it, but she did.

Discovering some sort of a connection between Hagrid and a monster who hunted students for sport through the eyes of Tom Riddle was shocking to say the least. There was no way Hagrid was responsible for this, Harry knew. He was too kind, too good to do something like this.

Then Hermione got petrified too. Hagrid was shipped off to Azkaban, the wizarding prison, and Harry wondered if this was truly the end of Hogwarts. The clue the half-giant left them didn’t help much either. In fact, it might have scarred Ron for life instead. Who knew the boy was so afraid of spiders?

Thankfully, right before she was attacked, Hermione discovered what could be responsible for the petrifications. In the girl’s clenched fist, Harry found a piece of parchment with notes that provided the answers they have been looking for all this time.

The monster was a basilisk and it was using the pipes to travel around school, which was why every time they found a new victim the floor was covered in water.

Apparently even down for the count, Hermione was a huge help.

-

Harry had to stop listening to Ron’s stupid ideas.

They were surely going to end up dead if she didn’t.

Of course she understood why Ron wanted to act rather than waste time waiting around or looking for help. Ginny was taken to the Chamber of Secrets and nobody seemed to know how to find her. The teachers seemed scared, but resigned as they went to check on the other students.

It was like they had already given up on Ginny Weasley.

Harry was determined to find the girl though. She suspected Lockhart wasn’t going to be much help, but she and Ron took him with them anyway. The place they went to was the second floor girl’s lavatory. Harry knew from Tom’s diary that the basilisk had killed a student the last time it was released and that student had to be the bathroom’s resident ghost, Moaning Myrtle.

Using Parseltongue, Harry was able to open the passageway at the sink and they went in. Lockhart tried to fight them, but the Memory Charm he attempted to cast with Ron’s broken wand backfired and hit him instead, knocking him out cold in the process.

She and Ron left him behind and went into the infamous chamber to face off against the monster within. They met Tom there and he turned out to be the younger, more suave version of Lord Voldemort. Apparently, Voldemort was related to Slytherin. Who knew, right?

Harry had to fight against him and the basilisk while Ron tried to rouse his unconscious sister.

The only reason why they survived was the timely arrival of the Headmaster’s pet phoenix, Fawkes. The bird brought with it the old Sorting Hat, which in turn provided Harry with the means to kill the monster – the Sword of Gryffindor.

Tom Riddle screeched as Harry pierced the diary with a basilisk fang and then he disappeared in a flash of blinding light.

-

When they emerged from the Chamber with Fawkes’ help and arrived at the Headmaster’s office, Mrs Weasley was the first to greet them. She cried herself hoarse as she hugged the three of them tightly.

“Oh thank Merlin, thank Merlin!” She babbled into their hair.

Being squished between the Weasley siblings was a bit awkward, but Harry felt warm and safe in the comforting embrace. After the eventful day, she probably needed it more than she was willing to admit.

At this point Harry almost completely forgot about Dobby, but then he arrived in Dumbledore’s office with his master, who turned out to be none other than Lucius Malfoy. The man seemed displeased to learn his own House Elf betrayed him. Thankfully, Harry managed to trick him into setting the elf free before he could take Dobby home and punish him. She used the now ruined diary he had placed in Ginny’s cauldron in August to do so. It was easy to predict he would give the book to Dobby and Harry’s sock hidden between the pages secured the elf’s freedom.

Malfoy’s furious face when he realized her trickery and tried to attack her was priceless. When Dobby blasted him away, protecting Harry with his magic, the girl smiled triumphantly.

 _Serves him right_ , she thought.

Before long Hermione and the rest of the basilisk’s victims were cured and able to rejoin their classmates.

Lucius Malfoy was kicked out of the School Board of Governors for undisclosed reasons and, as a result, his son stopped acting as if he was inherently better than everyone, although he was still a prat and unbearably snotty.

Hagrid was cleared of all charges and released from prison, much to Harry’s relief. He arrived at Hogwarts during the end-of-term feast and Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran over to hug their half-giant friend immediately.

And then the school year was officially over.

On the train ride back to London, Harry pretended she was fine and joined in the conversations as if she wasn’t worried at all. When they arrived at King’s Cross, she said goodbye to Ron, Hermione, and Neville, and then went outside to wait for Uncle Vernon to pick her up.

This time, she had no hope that her summer would be good.


	3. 1993/1994 (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I obviously don’t own the Harry Potter franchise and I’m making no profit from this story.**
> 
> As I mentioned, this is the year where things start to change for real. It's just the first part out of three (yes, I went a little overboard, sorry-not-sorry) and Goblet of Fire is half-way done already, so we're miraculously on schedule. Yay me! 
> 
> I had way too much fun shifting things around and adding stuff, and I hope you'll like the additions. I spent a lot of time thinking this through and hopefully it pays off. Also, I edited the previous chapters a little as I felt they were missing a few vital moments that will be important later on. You don't have to reread them, but it might be helpful.
> 
> As always, enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments!

Harry left 4 Privet Drive as quickly as possible, her only thought being to get away from the house and its occupants before the stupor wore off and someone, namely Uncle Vernon, would try to stop her.

She still couldn’t quite believe that she had somehow managed to turn Aunt Marge into a human balloon. Not that she felt sorry for doing it, since the hateful woman kind of deserved, but the situation she found herself as a result was far from ideal.

“What am I supposed to do?” She whispered miserably as she finally stopped near the fenced playground of her old primary school.

For a moment she just stood there, lost in thought, watching the rusty swings sway in the breeze. They squeaked ominously with every movement, causing a shiver down Harry’s spine and making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. With a tired sigh, she eventually flopped down onto the sidewalk and pressed her forehead against her bare knees, and tried to take in deep even breathes to calm down.

This was bad. Really, really bad. It wouldn’t take a genius to realize just how bad the situation was either.

It was very late, the night was unexpectedly cold, Harry had 2 galleons plus change to her name, and she was completely alone in a Muggle neighbourhood with a magical trunk and an empty owl cage. If only Hedwig was here... But Harry had sent her companion out only this morning with letters to Hermione and Neville, and it was highly unlikely the owl would be able to make it back tonight, which meant Harry had no way of contacting anyone. She was really, truly on her own here and it scared her.

She tried to think of any spell she could use to get help, but there was nothing she could remember right now. Besides she wasn’t supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts unless she was doing it at home to practice charms from the previous years or to learn new ones as part of summer assignments. Casting spells in the middle of the street where anyone could see her was surely going to land her in even more trouble than she was in already and it was the last thing she needed. After all, inflating a person and making them fly away into the night sky wasn’t part of the curriculum, and she was fairly sure it was also very much illegal. The Ministry of Magic was probably looking for her now and she didn’t want to anger them more.

The nearby bush rustled loudly as if something was hiding there. The unexpected noise made Harry snap to attention and she stood up on shaky legs. Her whole body was already wired up and tense after what had happened earlier that evening, and her hand trembled as she raised her wand, wondering if she would be forced to use magic again after all.

A massive black dog emerged from the bush a moment later, its luminous eyes focused on her. It growled and Harry slowly took a step back, her wide eyes focused on the creature and its bared sharp teeth. Her breath was coming out in quick bursts, her heart felt as if it was about to beat right out of her chest, and her hands were clammy with sweat. The animal followed her every move, its gaze unwavering, and then it tensed up as if it was getting ready to pounce. Without thinking, Harry backed away even more, throwing her arms up to protect herself. Since she wasn’t looking where she was going, she tripped on the sidewalk and fell back, ending up sprawled on top of her trunk.

There was a sudden flash of light. Then, with a loud honk and a groan of the engine, a blue triple-decker bus appeared in front of her out of nowhere. Too shocked to do anything but sit and stare with her mouth open, Harry watched as the back doors of the strange bus opened and a young man in a rumpled conductor uniform stepped out, holding a piece of parchment in his hand. He was only a few years older than she was, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve-” He stopped abruptly, his eyes zeroing in on Harry and his brows furrowed in obvious confusion. “'Choo you doin’? Why ar’ you layin’ there like that?”

“I fell over,” Harry responded as she got to her feet with a wince. Her left knee was bleeding and the hand she had used to break her fall was scrapped a little.

Stan sniggered, his professional persona gone. “'Choo fall over for?”

“I didn't do it on purpose,” she answered, annoyed.

She suddenly remembered why she had fallen over in first place and turned quickly to the side to stare at the bush. The Knight Bus's headlamps were flooding the area surrounding it with light, and there was nothing there. The dog was gone.

"'Choo lookin' at?"

"There was a big black thing," said Harry absentmindedly, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the bush. "Like a dog, but massive..."

“Sure there was,” the conductor agreed easily and then asked, “Woss your name, missy?”

“Hermione,” Harry blurted out the first name that came to mind and then quickly checked if her fringe was still laying flat against her forehead, covering the famous scar. Stan eyed her weirdly as she did that. "So, this bus," she went on, hoping to distract him, "did you say it goes anywhere?"

"Yep," said Stan proudly, "anywhere you like, 'long it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater. Whereabouts are you headed?”

And wasn’t that a good question. Harry hesitated, considering her options, but there was really only one place she could go to now.

“The Leaky Cauldron, in London,” she said. “How much would that be?”

"Eleven Sickles," said Stan, "but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot-water bottle an' a toofbrush in the colour of your choice."

Harry rummaged once more in her trunk, extracted her money bag, and shoved some coins into Stan's hand. Stan then lifted her trunk, with Hedwig's cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus, claiming ladies shouldn’t be lifting things. Harry barely refrained from rolling her eyes at that.

“You heard the miss, Ernie? To London!” Stan yelled as he moved to the front of the bus, manoeuvring skilfully between chairs and armchairs of various shapes and sized placed haphazardly all over at place. Harry followed him silently and tried not to bump into anything. An elderly wizard sleeping in one of the armchairs muttered something under his breath as she passed him before falling back into sleep.

“Aye, aye! Time to blow this popsicle stand!” Came a response from within the driver’s cubicle. When Harry peered inside curiously to see who said that, she blanched when she realized the voice belonged to a severed shrunken head hanging by the review mirror. Noticing her, the head grinned at her morbidly, showing rows of broken teeth and decayed gums in the process.

Harry shuddered and looked around for a place to sit, finally deciding on the nearby chair.

“Hold on tight,” Stan told her with a grin. Before she could respond, the bus was moving.

The ride was bumpy to say the least. In fact, in order to stay in her seat and not fall off, Harry had to hold on for dear life. Thankfully the chair was spelled to be stuck in place or else she would have been doubtlessly thrown around like a sack of potatoes. Still, as someone who got carsick rather easily, she had to take deep breaths and distract herself or she knew she was going to lose the contents of her stomach.

Her eyes landed on Stan who was standing a few steps away from her and reading _Daily Prophet_ as if nothing was wrong. Harry supposed he was used the discomfort by now, but nevertheless she admired his ability to read in these circumstances.

She looked at the front page and frowned, recognizing the man in the photo from the news her Aunt and Uncle watched in the evening.

“Sirius Black is a wizard?” She asked before she could think better of it.

Stan gawked. “Is ‘e a wizard, she asks! 'Course 'e is one, missy! What else could ‘e be?”

“What did he do?”

“You serious now?” Stan asked, his tone incredulous. Harry just shrugged noncommittally. “Well, he’s a murderer, that one. Killed thirteen people and blew up ‘alf a street with ‘em. Got ‘imself a life sentence in Azkaban for it too and now ‘e ran away from there. Can’t really blame the fella... Nasty place that, Azkaban.”

Luckily for Harry, Stan seemed more than happy to tell her all he knew about Black, going into detail about the crime and whatever conspiracy theories there were about his seemingly miraculous escape.

“Do you know why he did it? Murdered those people?” Harry finally asked.

“Tis rumoured ‘e was a big supporter of You-Know-Who,“ Stan said and then gave her an apprising look. ”You at least know who that is, right?”

Harry nodded with a grimace. “Yeah. Him I know.”

They were quiet for the rest of the journey. The few witches and wizards travelling with her got off one by one until she was the last passenger. When they finally reached her stop, Harry was a bit green in the face and got out of the bus as soon as possible, breathing in the cold night air in relief. She swore up and down that this was the first and only time she travelled this way – her stomach clearly wasn’t up for the challenge.

As before, Stan helped her with the luggage.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said to the young conductor, but Stan wasn't paying attention to her. Still standing in the doorway to the bus, he was goggling at something over Harry’s head with his mouth open.

Curious, Harry turned around and went a bit pale when she saw Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, standing at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

“There you are, Harry!” Fudge said with a smile that the girl returned tentatively, unsure why the Minister was being nice to her or smiling when he was clearly here to take away her wand and apprehend her. After all she had broken the law by inflating Aunt Marge, didn’t she? Was it bad enough to land her in Azkaban? Harry didn't know anything about the wizard prison, but everyone she had ever heard speak of it, Stan included, did so in the same fearful tone. Hagrid had spent two months there only last year. Harry wouldn't soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid's face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Harry knew.

Upon discovering she had lied about her identity and didn’t tell him her real name, Stan was clearly a bit offended, but he got over it relatively quickly, excited as he was to have met her in person.

Fudge let Harry say goodbye to Stan, Ernie, and the shrunken head, and then quickly ushered her inside the pub. The barman, Tom, immediately took her and Fudge upstairs and showed them to a room, promising to be back in a moment with a pot of tea and some scones.

"Sit down, Harry," said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire.

Harry sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up her arms despite the glow of the fire. She was still wearing the same loose yellow dress she had worn to dinner with the Dursleys. It was dirty and splattered with blood from her scraped hand and knee, and she realized with a cringe that she probably looked a bit crazy. Fudge didn’t seem to care though as he barely spared her a look before he took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry.

Instead of arresting her or anything of that sort, the man introduced himself – thought Harry already knew who he was – and expressed his relief at finding Harry so quickly. He then assured her that Aunt Marge was doing okay and wouldn’t even remember the accident. He also explained that while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were very angry, they were still willing to take her back as long as Harry stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas and Easter, which prompted the girl to comment with barely contained sarcasm that she would have done it anyway, with or without them asking for it.

When Harry asked about her punishment, Fudge laughed, clearly amused.

"Oh, my dear girl, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" The Minister informed her with a smile. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!"

But this didn't tally at all with Harry's past dealings with the Ministry of Magic.

"Last year, I got an official warning just because a House Elf smashed a pudding in the house," she told Fudge, frowning. "The letter I got said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if I used magic like that again."

Unless Harry's eyes were deceiving her, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward.

"Circumstances change, Harry... We, um, have to take into account... Well, in the present climate... Surely you don't _want_ to be expelled?"

"Of course I don't," said Harry.

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" Fudge asked, apparently having decided the conversation was over. "Now, have a scone, my dear, while I go and see if Tom's got a room for you."

-

The room she was led to was small and dark, but cosy. There was one single bed, a fireplace with the fire already lit, and a small table with two chairs. Harry was delighted to see Hedwig already waiting for her inside, preening on the perch.

“Someone will come by to collect you in the morning, Harry,” Fudge informed her on his way out. “Please stay put and be careful, alright? Have a good night.”

“Of course. I will. Goodnight, sir.”

And with that Harry was left alone. She wondered briefly who would be coming as she knew for a fact the Weasleys were currently in Egypt and Hermione was once again visiting family in France. From what Harry knew about Neville’s home life and his grandma, she highly doubted the woman would be thrilled to have yet another child under her care, so that option was out of the question as well. Not that Harry cared overly much. No matter who was going to take her in for the next two weeks, staying with them was going to be much better than going back to Privet Drive.

The next morning Harry woke up to hear someone knocking at the door to her room. Still groggy from sleep, she put her glasses on, pulled a jumper over her pyjamas, and trotted on bare feet to open the door and check who was there.

“Good morning, Miss Potter,” Professor McGonagall greeted her. She was dressed in her signature tartan, but the clothes were cut differently, more casually, and they made her look a little less intimidating.

Harry’s face split into a smile. “Morning, professor!” She said, moving aside to let her in.

“I trust you’ve had a good night? I took the liberty of ordering you breakfast,” McGonagall informed her as she stepped inside the room. “We have a few things to discuss, so I think it would be better if you ate it here.”

“What things?” Harry asked curiously, closing the door.

“All in due time, Miss Potter. You should get ready for the day now.”

Harry did as she was told, feeling a bit nervous as she busied herself with packing the few things she had taken out of her trunk last night. She then washed herself in the small bathroom in the hallway and got dressed in clean clothes, mindful to pick something a bit less threadbare and patched. She was done shortly before Tom came upstairs with food.

The breakfast the professor ordered turned out to be plain porridge with some fruit and a pot of tea with all the sides. As she tucked in, she watched with interest as Professor McGonagall walked around the room and waved her wand in graceful swipes, a frown on her face. Harry wondered what was that all about, but felt it would be stupid to ask.

“That should suffice, I think,” the older witch muttered when she was finally done with whatever she had been doing and sat down on the chair opposite to Harry’s, helping herself to a cup of tea. “I assume you’re wondering why I’m here.”

Harry nodded.

“Well, given the circumstances surrounding your departure from your relatives’ house and the current situation in general, Professor Dumbledore felt it would be better if you stayed somewhere else for the rest of summer instead of returning to your aunt’s and uncle’s home,” McGonagall informed her, “and since your friends seem to be away from the country at the moment or otherwise occupied and thus are unable to take you in, he decided you should come to Hogwarts earlier and stay at the castle until start of term.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes widened comically and her voice was full of excitement.

“Yes, Miss Potter, really,” McGonagall said with an indulgent smile. “As such, I will be taking you shopping for your supplies after you’re done with breakfast and then I’ll take you to Hogwarts. I understand this is more than agreeable to you?”

“It is!” The girl exclaimed. “Ron’ll be green in envy! Never mind ‘Mione!”

“I’m sure they will, but you cannot tell them about it. Not until September first, at any rate.”

“What! Why?”

Professor McGonagall sighed, clearly exasperated. “Because, Miss Potter, you’ll be there for your protection. It would be counterproductive to reveal your location prematurely to any third party, no matter how trustworthy.”

“But Ron and Hermione wouldn’t-!”

“I know they wouldn’t, but that’s not the point.” She levelled Harry with a look over the rim of her glasses. “This is non-negotiable, Miss Potter.”

“Alright, I won’t tell,” Harry said a bit sullenly after a moment. “But why is it important? Why can’t anyone know?”

There was a beat of silence as McGonagall seemed to mull something over. She was looking at Harry carefully, as if appraising her, and Harry got the feeling what she was about to be told wasn’t supposed to be repeated or shared either.

“Have you read the _Prophet_ recently, Miss Potter?”

Shaking her head, Harry said, “Not really... I don’t have a subscription. I saw a copy yesterday though.”

“Then you have heard about Sirius Black?”

To that Harry nodded. “The Knight Bus conductor, Stan, told me a bit about him. And I saw him on the news too.”

“Good,” the professor said. “Then you know that Black is dangerous. Professor Dumbledore thinks, and I agree, that you should also know why his escape concerns you in particular.”

Whatever Harry had expected, it wasn’t that. Voice shaking, she asked, “I thought he just killed a bunch of people... I-I didn’t... How is that connected to me?”

“Black wasn’t just You-Know-Who’s follower, Miss Potter. He was also close friends with your parents, your father in particular. They were in the same year. Gryffindors, all of them.” In that moment something in McGonagall seemed to crumble a little, as if recalling that information was too painful. “They even named him your godfather.”

Rendered momentarily speechless, Harry just stared at her Head of House. The revelation didn’t seem to make any sense to her as if the words used to deliver it had been spoken in a foreign language, one she couldn’t understand.

Friends with her father. Her godfather. A murderer.

“Is he... Do you think he...” She couldn’t quite decide on what she wanted to ask, too afraid to word the thought that made the most sense.

McGonagall reached over and placed her glove-covered hand on Harry’s own. “Miss Potter... Harry.” She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “Your parents made a mistake. They were hiding, you see, and trusted the wrong man to protect them. Black betrayed them and then, when he realized his master was dead, he was furious... He killed thirteen people, one of his other friends, Peter Pettigrew, among them. When they caught him, he was incoherent and laughing... We don’t know how he managed to escape, but we believe that he might have done it, because he is looking for you... to finish what You-Know-Who had started when you were little.”

 _Truth is powerful. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution_ , she remembered being told. She hadn’t quite understood what Professor Dumbledore meant by that, the words had sounded like gibberish back then, but she thought she did now.

When Harry was little she used to dream about someone coming to take her from the Dursleys – someone to call her own, who would love her and whom she could trust, and confide in. She had wanted a loving parent so very badly that it hurt sometimes. Knowing there was a person who could have been that and more to her, but chose to do evil instead, was a complete mockery of that long-forgotten wish. Knowing the truth felt like she had been stabbed by someone who was now slowly, meticulously twisting the blade to elicit as much pain as possible. The words that were so horribly, unbelievably true made something coil inside her, begging to be unleashed. It was anger, she knew; anger and resentment, and disappointment, and heart-wrenching, blinding grief over the what-ifs and could-have-beens.

After all, it was one thing for Black to be some nobody who killed the innocent and then laughed about it, and it was another to know he was responsible for what had happened to her and her parents.

“Oh my dear girl...” McGonagall whispered, squeezing her hand. Harry returned the gesture as she let a quiet sob escaped her lips. Her vision blurred with tears, Harry cried like she had rarely allowed herself to cry before. Professor McGonagall kept holding her hand, but refrained from speaking, as if understanding that some things were better experienced in the comfort of silence.

It seemed like forever before Harry was able to calm down. McGonagall handed her a folded handkerchief with little blue flowers embroidered on the edges and smiled tightly when Harry took it from her.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she said after a moment, “but I hope you understand it wasn’t my intention to make you cry, child. You, more than anyone, deserve to know what that man is capable of.”

“Yeah, I know, professor,” Harry mumbled as she worried the kerchief in her slightly trembling hands. Unwilling to continue this subject and feeling a bit embarrassed after crying her eyes out, she inquired, “Um, you said we’re going to the Diagon Alley...?”

“Aa, yes. That is correct,” the professor confirmed. “Have you decided what subjects you will be taking this year?”

To be honest, Harry hadn’t put much thought into it. She had discussed it briefly with Ron, Hermione, and even Neville, but she still wasn’t sure. There was a lot to choose from and all of it sounded quite interesting. Well, maybe besides Muggle Studies, but Harry wasn’t required to take that class either way.

“Um, not really,” she admitted honestly. “I think I would like Care of Magical Creatures and maybe... Divination?”

McGonagall lifted one eyebrow and gave her a look. “No Arithmancy?” She asked curiously. “Professor Ivanov assured me he talked to you about switching to that course at the end of last year.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something,” said Harry, “but I’m just not sure... Um, he said it was a bit harder than Maths and I, um, I don’t know if I’m ready for that, professor.”

“Well, he told me you seem very bored in his class and that you should definitely consider switching,” the woman said with amusement. “And, as he is not generally known for complimenting his students, I think you should really consider it, Miss Potter.”

The Hogwarts’ Mathematics teacher was indeed rather reserved and spoke little with his students outside the classroom. He also didn’t play favourites and treated members of each House equally. At the same time, he seemed to have taken a liking to Harry as she was probably the best student in his class, even if it wasn’t necessarily by the virtue of his ability to teach the subject. Maths was just something Harry understood and could do with no problem whatsoever, and Professor Ivanov was very much aware of it.

In the end Harry agreed to take the course. She was getting a bit bored with Maths and Arithmancy sounded fun, like a new challenge. Besides, Hermione was also going to be in that class, so if Harry had any trouble, her friend would be able to help her.

As Harry finished the remainder of her breakfast and tea, Professor McGonagall lifted whatever spells she had put on the room when she first came in and then proceeded to prepare Harry’s luggage for easy transit, reducing it in size and weight until the trunk resembled an ordinary briefcase. Once they were both done, they left the Leaky Cauldron and went into the backyard where McGonagall took out her wand, tapped the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and stood back next to Harry as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall.

Surprisingly, the alley wasn’t as busy as Harry remembered, though there were still quite a lot of people milling about.

After a quick visit to Gringotts, Harry and Professor McGonagall went from one store to another to buy all the books and supplies the girl would need during the new school year. Harry had a feeling it was supposed to be a very no-nonsense type of a trip, but it didn’t turn out to be the case.

The professor agreed readily when Harry asked if she could go to Quidditch Quality Supplies and they spent a while browsing the store as well as admiring the newest broom model on sale, the Firebolt. If Harry wasn’t worried about running out of funds, she would have bought the broom in a heartbeat. To Harry’s surprise, when the two of them finally left the Quidditch shop, the older witch suggested a detour to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for a sweet treat, as if understanding that Harry needed a little bit of indulgence. Then again, given how sorry the professor seemed to be about making Harry cry back at the pub, maybe it wasn’t as surprising.

Their last stop for the day was Carrington’s Casual Wear for Everyday Witch and Wizard, which was a medium-sized and family-owned clothing store, inconspicuously hidden away in one of the side streets. Unlike Madame Malkin’s, which seemed to cater to more formal wear despite its name and outfitted the majority of Hogwarts students with robes, Carrington’s just sold normal everyday clothes, both magical and Muggle.

“It is important for a young lady to own a few nice things, Miss Potter,” McGonagall had told her before they entered with a conspiratorial smile.

The clothes were all brand new and the nice shop assistant by the name of Lora helped Harry pick everything from shirts and trousers to undergarments in a wide variety of colours and styles. It was a vastly different experience from browsing charity shops with Ginny and Mrs Weasley last summer. Not that the clothes Harry had bought then were horrible or anything, but Professor McGonagall was right – it was nice to have something new and properly fitted for once.

Before Hogwarts, Harry mostly wore her cousin’s hand-me-downs and some second-hand dresses and skirts. Nothing much changed afterwards, since she felt a bit uncomfortable taking the Weasleys clothes shopping when she knew they didn’t have money for new books, let alone new clothing. Since she only wore her school robes at Hogwarts, it didn’t seem to matter much. She realized now that it wasn’t the case and that buying clothes that didn’t need to be mended or altered to fit her was something she had wanted all along.

Professor McGonagall didn’t say anything more or even offered a comment on the matter as they left the store after a good two hours and yet Harry had a feeling the witch understood how much this seemingly small gesture meant to Harry. It was still a novelty that someone would go out of their way to care for her and Harry appreciated it greatly.

The easy atmosphere brought Harry’s attention back to the topic she had briefly discussed with the Minister the previous day.

Hopeful against all odds, Harry asked Professor McGonagall about the Hogsmeade permission slip and whether her Head of House could sign it for her, but, as expected, the professor’s answer was the same as Fudge’s – a resounding sorry, but no. Although Harry tried not to let disappointment show on her face, some must have been visible either way, because McGonagall quickly assured her she would have a word with Professor Dumbledore to see what could be done to persuade Harry’s guardians to sign the slip before next year.

Harry didn’t necessarily want to know what said _persuasion_ would entail, seeing as the older witch didn’t seem to like the Dursleys very much at all.

When they were finally done with shopping and all the parcels had been shrunk or packed away, Professor McGonagall led Harry away from the growing hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley, and procured an old slipper from a pocket inside her outer robes.

“I assume you haven’t travelled via Portkey before?”

Harry blinked at her owlishly in response. “A what?”

“A Portkey, Miss Potter,” said McGonagall as she pressed one side of the slipper into Harry’s hand. “It is an ordinary object which has been charmed to transport witches and wizards over great distances. Generally, it is activated at a certain time or through a set password, sometimes even just through touch. Now, you have to hold onto it and only let go when I tell you so. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. On the count of three, then. One, two, three… Bumblebee!”

They were gone in an instant.

-

It took Harry several days to get used to her strange new freedom. Never before had she been able to get up whenever she wanted or eat whatever she fancied. She could even go basically wherever she pleased, as long as it was within the perimeter of the Hogwarts’ grounds and she told someone beforehand that she would be spending time outside of the library or the Gryffindor Tower.

Spending time on her own, barring the times she took dinner in the Great Hall with some of the teachers and staff or helped them out around the castle, wasn’t as bad as she thought either, though it gave her way too much time to think about Sirius Black and wallow in anger. She tried to put it aside, push it deep inside until it was barely there at all, but it reared its ugly head at least once a day, making her time at Hogwarts a little bittersweet.

Being busy turned out to be the best way of keeping the treacherous thoughts away. She explored Hogwarts like never before and took long walks along the lake, sometimes accompanied by Hagrid if he had time to spare. Madame Hooch took her to the Quidditch pitch in the mornings so she could fly around for a bit and she even spent a few days with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses, helping the Herbology professor prepare for the new term.

Harry also worked diligently on her homework each afternoon in the library, dividing her time between researching and writing her essays, doing the assigned reading, and studying ahead for her classes. Hermione would have probably cried with pride if she saw her.

The school librarian, Madame Pince, observed Harry like a hawk for the first few days, but she eventually relaxed a bit when she realized Harry wasn’t about to set fire to the library or sneak into the Restricted Section if left unsupervised. Not that Harry had any desire to go there after her brief, if memorable, encounter with a very vocal book in her first year.

Before long more and more teachers started arriving. Not all of them showed up to the meals in the Great Hall, but Harry saw them around the castle and the grounds. The closer it got to the start of term, the busier everyone got. The week before the students would arrive, Harry had no-one to accompany her anywhere and she was left to spend most of her time in the Common Room with a book. It wasn’t bad, but she started wishing that the school year would begin sooner rather than later.

-

September first rolled around rainy and cold. Harry woke up later than usual, having stayed up late to read _Robinson Cruseo_ , and basically sleep-walked her way through breakfast before coming back up to the Gryffindor Tower to continue reading.

She spent most of the day swaddled in a comforter from her dormitory bed, sitting on the couch in the Common Room, since she had no desire to go outside in the rain and she was too tired to do anything else anyway. Around 3pm she put the book down and reluctantly went to the Great Hall for a late lunch. She was surprised to find every teacher and staff member already there, including those that had been either skipping meals or hadn’t arrived before breakfast. They were sitting around the round table in the middle of the room and chatting amicably amongst themselves.

“Aa, Harry, my dear! Good afternoon!” Dumbledore greeted her jovially. The rest followed suit with various degrees of enthusiasm.

Harry mumbled a quiet “Hello professors”, feeling a little overwhelmed both by the amount of people and the attention.

The only empty seat left was located between Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape, and Harry scurried to take it. She wondered briefly if it was a good idea to sit for an entire meal between her oddly quiet Potions teacher and her very chatty Headmaster, but she found herself enjoying it as she listened with rapid attention to the latter’s animated story about a magical room somewhere in Hogwarts he had supposedly stumbled upon a few days ago.

They were half-way through the meal when a silvery wolf burst into the room. As she had never seen something like this before in her life, Harry jumped in alarm. She would have fallen off her chair if Snape didn’t catch her just in time.

“Dementors on the train. Everyone’s alright, but we might be delayed,” the strange wolf said in a scratchy male voice Harry didn’t recognize before it disappeared into thin air as suddenly as it appeared.

The words meant little to her, since she had no clue what a Dementor was or why it would delay something, least of all a train, but they made everyone else go crazy. Harry observed with wide eyes as the teachers started arguing and yelling over each other, clearly distressed by the news.

“Dementors! On the train! I would have nev-!”

“This cannot be-!”

“Albus, you have to-!”

“The students will-!”

“- _surely_ you can-!”

Dumbledore stood up unhurriedly, put his wand against his neck, and then commanded, “SILENCE!” in a voice amplified by whatever spell he had used on himself.

The effect was immediate. The room got so quiet Harry would have been doubtlessly able to hear a pin drop.

“Everyone please calm down. I will contact Minister Fudge and investigate at once. The Dementors were supposed to guard the grounds only, not harass students on the train,” the Headmaster said at a normal volume as he released the spell on his vocal cords. He sounded troubled, as if this news worried him greatly for some reason. “As I am sure you understand, even though students might be alright physically, I would want to stay on the side of caution. Please make yourselves available if any student expresses a want or need to talk with you about their unfortunate encounter with the Dementors at any point.” He turned to Madame Pomfrey. “Poppy, it would be prudent to expect a few requests for a Dreamless Sleep potion and Calming Draughts. Please be ready.”

The matron nodded.

“Now, please finish your meal,” Dumbledore continued with a smile that didn’t reach his piercing blue eyes. “If you will excuse me...”

And with that he left the Great Hall.

Harry finished eating in silence and walked back to the Tower accompanied by Professor Flitwick who asked her to stay put until someone came by to collect her for the start-of-term feast.

Still confused about the whole ordeal, but not overly bothered by the need to stay inside, Harry went back to reading, her mind swirling with questions about the mysterious Dementors and the silvery wolf that spoke with a human voice.

When it was almost time for the students to arrive and the feast to begin, Harry went to her dormitory and quickly changed into her school robes before going back down to the Common Room.

“Someone’s waiting for you, deary,” said the Fat Lady as soon as Harry entered the room. “Horribly unpleasant, that one.”

“Thank you,” Harry responded and hurried to the portrait hole, already knowing who must be waiting for her outside.

Professor Snape was standing a few steps away from the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, arms crossed over his thin chest, looking as annoyed and unhappy as usual.

“Miss Potter,” he intoned in greeting.

“Hello sir,” Harry said in response, suddenly feeling a little nervous. Even though Snape wasn’t mean to her and seemed to have adopted the policy of outright ignoring her most of the time, she couldn’t help but be on edge in his presence. He had that effect on people, she supposed. No matter how much nicer he was in class – or rather less horrible – he still had a temper and it was hard to predict his moods when his face was blank or showed barely a glimmer of emotions, usually negative ones.

Snape bid her to follow him and they made their way downstairs in silence, neither willing to talk. Although Harry had a lot of questions regarding what had happened during lunch, she thought it would be better to ask someone else. As they got closer to the Entrance Hall, it got louder and louder. Apparently the older students were already in the castle and on their way to the Great Hall. Snape left her as soon as they reached the mass of students milling about without saying a word and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

She scanned the crowd, looking for her friends, and found them a moment later, both busy talking in hushed whispers. Harry approached them quickly, frowning when she noticed how angry Hermione seemed for some reason. It wasn’t hard to deduce the two of them had been arguing about something again.

“Hi there,” she said as she stopped right behind them.

Both of her friends jumped in surprise, apparently neither having heard her come over.

“Harry!” Hermione recovered quickly and pulled Harry into a tight hug before moving away and looking her over, worry pinching her face. “Where have you been?”

“Here.”

“No, you weren’t!” The girl disagreed. “We looked for you all over the train and in the carriages, and you weren’t there!”

“No, no! I mean, _here_. As in Hogwarts,” Harry clarified as she bumped fists with Ron in greeting. “I’ve been here for the last few weeks, actually.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look and then gaped at her.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Asked Ron. He seemed a bit put upon by the news.

“I wasn’t allowed to tell,” she responded with a helpless shrug. “I will tell you all about it later, okay?”

“I guess...” Ron said.

The doors to the Great Hall opened and the trio walked in, quickly finding their seats at the Gryffindor table. As they waited for the Sorting Ceremony to begin, Ron and Hermione told her bits and pieces about their summer. Apparently Ron’s dad won some sort of a prize and that’s how the Weasleys were able to afford a visit to Ron’s oldest brother, Bill, in Egypt. They had also been able to purchase a new wand for Ron, much to Harry’s delight.

“How about you?” Ron questioned while Harry looked over his new willow wand. “Summer at Hogwarts must have been a blast.”

“Yeah, it was brilliant,” she said in response. “Better than with the Dursleys, that’s for sure.”

"I bet," Hermione said before asking in a very serious voice, “Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you even know about this?”

“My dad,” Ron responded. “What happened? Dad wouldn’t tell us a thing!”

"I didn't mean to do it," said Harry a tad defensively. "I just, um, lost control."

Ron roared with laughter at that.

"It's not funny, Ron!" Hermione admonished sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled!"

"So am I," admitted Harry. "Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested!" She looked at Ron. "Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let me off, does he?"

"Probably 'cause it's you, isn't it?" Ron shrugged, still chuckling. "Famous Harley Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to _me_ if I blew up an aunt... Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, I can ask Dad if you want."

“Um, thanks. That would be great,” she said. Then she remembered what brought her over to them in the first place and she asked, “What were you two arguing about?”

“Hermione thought it would be a grand idea to get a cat,” Ron said in response, shooting a glare at the Muggleborn witch, all amusement forgotten. “And that beast has it out for Scrabbers!”

“No, he doesn’t!” Hermione glowered back.

“Yes, he does!”

“No, he-!”

“You got a cat?” Harry interrupted before the argument could escalate even further. People were looking at them curiously and she didn’t want to bring even more attention to them.

“Why, yes. Half-Kneazle. He’s a birthday gift from my parents,” Hermione said. “I stayed with Ron and his family at the Leaky Cauldron the last few days and we all went to the Diagon Alley together. Ron wanted to get Scrabbers checked over, so we decided to visit the Magical Menagerie and-”

“And that monster almost clawed my eyes out,” Ron finished for her with a scowl. “I had to run after poor Scrabbers, that’s how scared he was. Your stupid cat wanted to have him for a snack!”

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Really, Ronald...”

“Why did you want to have him checked?” Harry inquired, glancing curiously at Ron’s pet rat. Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers was second-hand – he had once belonged to Ron's brother, Percy – and a bit battered. She thought he did look especially woebegone, the patchiness of his fur and his tattered ears and missing toe only adding to the overall miserable picture.

“I don't think Egypt agreed with him. He’s been a bit off-colour since then,” Ron explained. “I’ve been giving him this strengthening tonic. Maybe it will help some.”

Harry nodded, hoping it would. Ron was quite attached to the rat and she knew he would be sad if something happened to him. Before she could say anything more, the Sorting Ceremony finally began.

Professor McGonagall walked in, leading the first years inside the Great Hall, and then called them one by one in alphabetic order to sit under the Sorting Hat. Harry clapped along with the rest of her House every time a student was sorted into Gryffindor. As the ceremony ended, the Hat sang a weird song that left Harry feeling a little out of sorts and then Professor Dumbledore introduced the new Defence teacher, Professor Remus Lupin.

Harry looked at the smiling, older man and couldn’t help but wonder if he too was going to try to get her murdered somehow before the school year was over. He didn’t seem very threatening, but then again, neither did Quirrell nor Lockhart, so she wasn’t about to judge him based on appearance alone.

After the feast they went to the Common Room. Since it was still relatively early, the trio decided to sit at their usual table near the fireplace and talk. Making sure nobody was paying attention to them or trying to listen in, Harry told her friends about Aunt Marge, meeting the Minister of Magic, her summer at Hogwarts, and, finally, what Professor McGonagall had shared with her about Sirius Black.

“Your _godfather_?” Ron sounded positively horrified. “Blimey, mate... That’s just bloody awful.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a grimace. “It is, isn’t it?”

“You’re taking it remarkably well though,” Hermione said hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

“Mostly? I mean, I had two weeks to think it over and stuff.” She shrugged. “It still sucks, but there’s really nothing I can do about it, so... Plus he can’t be much worse than Lord Voldemort, eh?”

“Sure,” Ron snorted as he patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. “Still, we’re here for you if you need to talk it through, you know that, right?”

Harry smiled a little. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Ron.”

“No need to thank us, Harry. That’s what friends are for,” said Hermione with a smile. “Just please promise me you’ll be careful and won’t go looking for trouble.”

"I don't go looking for trouble," said Harry, nettled. "Trouble usually finds me."

"And how thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill her?" Said Ron shakily.

“Oh you know what I mean! I just don’t want you doing anything stupid, is all!”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Like go after Black yourself!”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, ‘Mione. I’m not that stupid, you know.”

“Of course not!” Her friend backpedalled quickly. “But you tend to be a bit, um... you know...”

“Rash and hot-headed,” Ron supplied helpfully. “I get why in this case, I really do. What he did was really messed up and all... Still, I think you should listen to ‘Mione and be careful.”

“I’m not going to hunt him down if that’s what you’re worried about,” Harry reassured them and then added as if in afterthought, “But if he crosses my path, I will kill him.”

Her proclamation was met with stunned silence.

“Harry...” Hermione started after a moment, but Harry didn’t want to hear what the other girl had to say.

“What? He helped Him murder my parents. He deserves to die!”

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, both looking worried.

“Well, probably,” Ron consented hesitantly, “but that doesn’t mean you have to be the one to do it, mate.”

“How so?” Harry muttered, suddenly angry at their lack of understanding and support.

“Black's really dangerous. Nobody knows how he escaped Azkaban and it’s supposed to be impossible to escape from there anyway! And he already murdered a whole bunch of people in the middle of a crowded street. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go anywhere alone, Harry,” Hermione said carefully, looking apologetic. Harry hated that she was right once again. “When we go to Hogsmeade, for example, you should really stick with us.”

“Well, I won’t be going there, so really, no need to worry,” Harry snapped.

“What do you mean ‘won’t be going’? You can’t miss Hogsmeade!”

“I can and I will,” Harry said, a note of bitterness entering her tone. “My Uncle didn’t sign the permission slip and both Fudge and McGonagall said they couldn’t do it either. I’m stuck in the castle.”

“That sucks,” Ron summarised eloquently.

“At least you should be safe here, what with the Dementors and all that,” Hermione said and then, obviously trying to cheer Harry up, added, “And we will buy you whatever you want, and-”

At the mention of Dementors, Harry stopped listening to Hermione’s enthusiastic offer, her mind focused on finally getting some answers. After hearing bits and pieces about them for the whole day, she was beyond curious. Even though Dumbledore mentioned the creatures during his speech that evening, it was only a warning and he didn’t exactly explain why they were so dangerous and why students should refrain from provoking them. Harry supposed it was one of those things everyone in the wizarding world just knew, having grown up with stories about them, but she had absolutely no idea who they were.

“What are Dementors?” She asked, interrupting Hermione.

“Well, they’re guards from Azkaban,” Ron explained. “They’re supposed to be keeping an eye out for Black around Hogwarts this year like Dumbledore mentioned earlier.”

“But you met them on the train, didn’t you? We got a message saying there might be a delay, because they got on the Hogwarts Express...”

“They did! Oh Harry, it was _awful_!” Said Hermione, going slightly pale. “They feed on negative emotions and make you miserable, and it was really, really bad. You’re so lucky you weren’t there!”

“Yeah, mate. She’s right. It’s good Professor Lupin was with us and took care of them so quickly. He used some spell to call on this great wolf and it chased them all away!”

Harry wondered absentmindedly if it was the same wolf that had appeared in the Great Hall during lunch. It would make sense if it was. She also agreed with Hermione that it was good luck she wasn’t on the train with everyone else. Knowing how her life went, she would have probably ended up fainting or something equally as ridiculous.

For some reason, Harry once again had a feeling this year was going to be eventful.


	4. 1993/1994 (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I obviously don’t own the Harry Potter franchise and I’m making no profit from this story.**
> 
> Guys, I swear this story writes itself at this point. The original plan for this chapter was a bit different (and shorter). I'm still very happy with where I ended up going and it's one of my faves so far, but dayum, it wasn't supposed to be like that lol.
> 
> This time I spent a lot of time flushing out Harry's character and I think this is the chapter where you can clearly see the differences between female Harry and Harry in canon. I also included a lot of my personal headcanons regarding the curriculum at Hogwarts by basically rewriting the whole thing, which was actually a lot of fun. I have a few pages in a separate Word document dedicated to it too (yes, I'm an overthinker and yes, I regret nothing) and if you want, I can share it with you all. Let me know if you would be interested in reading it!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you had a good week. Mine was a bit hectic, what with the new job and getting back to semi-regular rehearsals again. Hopefully I can get used to the new routine before Corona interferes again... One can hope, am I right?
> 
> Now, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Monday, the first day of the new term, was a half-day, meaning classes didn’t start until after lunch.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione got their timetables from Professor McGonagall during breakfast and then returned to the Gryffindor Tower to collect the books they would need for the few classes they would have that day as well as their summer assignments. Since they had a few hours to spare before lunch and their afternoon classes, they decided to sit down and check over their homework.

Well, Hermione and Harry were checking theirs while Ron complained about the classes.

“I can’t believe we’ve got double Potions today,” Ron groaned miserably as he looked at his schedule. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to see Snape’s ugly mug until dinner at least!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad. _Professor_ Snape is quite reasonable and his classes are okay.”

“Snape? Reasonable? _Okay_?” Ron gave her a disbelieving look. “Have you lost your mind? He is crazy, is what he is! And I’m pretty sure he hates me!”

“He isn’t and he doesn’t,” said Harry, amused by Ron’s theatrics. “I think you messing up the potions all the time just annoys him or something. That’s why he’s, you know, a bit mean.”

“Yeah, right. _A bit_ ,” Ron grumbled. “Besides, it’s easy for you to say. He never bothers you.”

Harry couldn’t disagree with that very valid point.

Professor Snape, for all his bad temper and rude comments, seemed all too happy to pretend Harry didn’t exist and afforded her a bare minimum of recognition when he wasn’t actively ignoring her. Harry supposed his attitude towards Ron had more to do with the Weasley boy being absolutely horrendous at Potions rather than anything personal. Ron’s only saving grace during Potions was sharing a desk with Harry and Hermione who helped him along as much as possible, though it wasn’t always enough to prevent mistakes and consequent disasters. Still, to be perfectly honest, Harry didn’t think Snape hated or disliked Ron in particular. She got the feeling the professor hardly liked anyone, though he seemed to reserve a special kind of disdain for either those who cared little for Potions or were particularly bad at it, which was honestly pretty understandable.

He also wasn’t trying to be horrible to anyone anymore – or at least that’s what Harry thought – but it just seemed to slip through sometimes when he was in a worse mood.

After all, even if he was trying to be nicer, it didn’t necessarily mean he was a nice person.

In an attempt to get Ron’s mind away from his most hated class, Harry offered to play chess with him until it was time for lunch and her friend agreed to it eagerly.

Their first class of the day wasn’t actually Potions, but Divination. The classroom was located in North Tower and the journey through the castle to get there was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been inside North Tower before. Even Harry, who had arguably spent the most time exploring, had no idea where it was.

Luckily, the trio stumbled upon a painting of a knight, Sir Cadogan, who was nice enough to point them in the right direction, though he was a bit rude at the beginning as apparently even the presence of two young ladies wasn’t enough to temper his inclination to curse. Still, in the end they managed to reach the Divination classroom. They not only had to climb a ridiculous amount of stairs to get there, but also use a ladder to reach the room itself as it was on the very top of the tower.

Although Harry had leafed through her Divination textbook, she had no idea what to expect from the lesson, apart from what she was pretty sure Muggles considered fortune-telling.

Their teacher, Professor Sybill Trelawney, was very thin. Her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings. Harry's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. She had met Professor Trelawney very briefly before during one of the meals in the Great Hall, but the woman always kept to herself and didn’t seem interested in striking up a conversation. The reason why Harry had only seen her once before was explained by the professor herself, who proclaimed that the hustle and bustle of the castle clouded her Inner Eye, whatever that was.

The professor explained what they would be covering this year, going into detail about the art behind reading someone’s fate and the talent one had to possess in order to do so. Harry thought it sounded like a lot of garbage and judging by the expressions on Ron’s and Hermione’s faces they agreed with her wholeheartedly. In fact the only students who seemed even remotely interested in the class and went as far as to look positively delighted to be in the stuffy, incense-scented classroom were Harry’s dorm mates, Lavender and Parvati. It wasn’t much of a surprise, really, since the two girls spent a lot of their free time reading horoscopes that were published in _Witch Weekly_ and whispering over tarot cards. Although Harry had absolutely nothing against it and even joined them sometimes, she was convinced whatever Professor Trelawney was doing, it probably had very little to do with actual fortune-telling and magic in general.

As the class went on, she was proved right. The professor continued spewing nonsense about the Inner Eye while she floated around the room like an overgrown fly, peering into everyone’s cups to check if they were reading the tea leaves correctly.

Then, to wrap up an already weird experience, she stopped by the table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting, and proclaimed to the entire room in the most condescending voice known to man that Harry’s omen was the Grim, which was apparently the worst omen imaginable, and that it meant she was going to die an untimely death soon. Go figures.

Needless to say, Harry left the classroom beyond annoyed, trying very hard to ignore the snickering of the Slytherins who found the whole ordeal hilarious.

Even if it was doubtlessly stupid, it made Harry think about her encounter with the huge dog in Little Whinging on the night she had ran away from home. Maybe there was something to Trelawney’s predictions after all, since Harry had actually met the personification of the omen? Did it mean she was once again in danger?

Potions were a welcome respite as nobody was stupid enough to joke around during Snape’s class. It wasn’t as bad as Ron feared it would be either. Or at least it wasn’t bad for Harry and Hermione, and anyone else who came prepared.

Like last year, Snape started them on the potion they were supposed to read and write about over the summer. It became painfully obvious who hadn’t done their homework well halfway through the lesson when Goyle’s potion boiled over rather spectacularly, emitting a weird powder-pink fog in the process. Whatever he had done to mess up, it must have been pretty bad, since there wasn’t supposed to be any fog and it certainly shouldn’t have been pink either.

Usually something like that would only earn a Slytherin a detention with no additional comment. However, Snape seemed to be in a particularly nasty mood and he descended on Goyle like a demon from hell itself, barking a no doubt creative variation of ‘blithering fool’, ‘detention’ and ‘could have killed us’ in a voice so quiet and deadly it was a miracle the boy was still alive at the end of it, if only barely.

Trying very hard not to snicker, Harry busied herself with her own potion while monitoring Ron’s out of the corner of her eye. If Snape was this short with his own House, there was no telling what he would do if something went boom on the Gryffindor side of the classroom. Harry wasn’t about to find out and, judging by the tense atmosphere, neither was anyone else.

Keeping your head down and paying attention in Potions on any given day was good practice, but when their teacher was this pissed, it was just the matter of common sense.

-

Harry had a peculiar feeling about Care of Magical Creatures from the moment she realized the aptly named and very volatile Monster Book she got as a gift for her birthday was their textbook for the course, and it only intensified when she remembered Hagrid’s love for dangerous creatures.

The trio arrived at the Groundkeeper’s hut first thing Wednesday morning. They were the last to do so, mostly because Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to each other. They had argued again about Crookshanks having it out for Scrabbers. This time the argument resulted in the two being no longer on speaking terms. It grated on Harry’s nerves to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. She was forced to play peacemaker and serve as a corresponded when her friends wanted to say something to each other. It was beyond annoying.

Hagrid led them into the forest and introduced them to a hippogriff named Buckbeak. And, because Harry’s classmates apparently wanted her dead, she was volunteered to greet the creature. To her relief, it went well and the hippogriff not only bowed back, but also allowed her to pet him. She even got to fly around the grounds on his back for a few minutes, which was both terrifying and absolutely amazing.

Then Malfoy had to ruin everything, as per usual.

Malfoy’s innate desire to show her up at every point was apparently too much to resist, even in the face of danger. Buckbeak, clearly as fed up with Malfoy as Harry, took none of the boy’s cockiness and slashed at him the moment Malfoy turned away from him to poke fun at Harry. In a flash of steely talons, Malfoy let out a high pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

The Slytherin yelled that he was dying, though Harry held no hope it was actually true. The scene would have been funny to watch, what with Malfoy acting like a baby over a scratch, were it not for the threats the boy was issuing in-between moaning about how much pain he was in.

Even though Lucius Malfoy was no longer a member of the Board of Governors, he was still influential. Harry had no doubt that his son would do everything in his power to ensure Hagrid paid for the injury, even if it had been caused by Mafloy’s own stupidity.

Harry worried about Hargid too. He had been so excited about becoming a professor. It wasn’t fair that he should lose the newly-acquired job over something like this.

-

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to visit Hargid the day of the Malfoy incident, but he promptly walked them back to the castle, berating them for taking an unnecessary risk just to see him. Since Hagrid had never been this concerned about them being alone on school grounds, Harry assumed his new-found wariness had something to do with Sirius Black and the looming presence of the Dementors.

Predictably enough, Malfoy didn’t actually die. He was, in fact, released from the Hospital Wing the same day right after lunch and didn’t seem to be suffering from any life-threatening injury, although his right arm was covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, and the prat was acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle. He kept complaining about how much pain he was in and told anyone willing to listen how he almost died, much to the bemusement of any non-Slytherin who played witness to what had happened during the now-infamous Care of Magical Creatures class.

Unfortunately for Harry, she couldn’t escape Malfoy or his tall tales since she shared almost all of her classes with him. It honestly made her wish she had decided to pick different courses, if only to escape Malfoy’s thinly-welled threats against Hargid and his bratty attitude.

Then it got even worse.

They were getting back to the castle after Herbology, their last class of the day. Harry spotted Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, strolling near the border of the Forbidden Forest with a huge black dog and she had wanted to take a closer look. As she stopped to observe them, she ended up separating from the rest of the group.

A moment later she felt a gust of wind blow at her back and, when she turned around, she saw a cloaked figure that towered over her, hovering a few inches above the ground. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what she saw made her stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water.

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. An intense cold swept over her and Harry felt her own breath catch in her chest.

The cold went deeper than her skin.

It was inside her chest, it was inside her very heart.

Harry's eyes rolled up into her head. She couldn't see. She was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in her ears as though of water, and she was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder, and louder, and louder...

And then, from far away, she heard screaming. A terrible, blood-curdling, pleading scream. She wanted to help whoever it was... She had to help them... She tried to move his arms, but couldn't.

A thick white fog was swirling around her, inside her...

"Miss Potter! Potter! Are you all right?"

When Harry opened her eyes, she was laying on the grass. Her classmates and Professor Sprout stood over her, and the professor looked very worried. Harry couldn’t remember falling down or losing consciousness, only the cold, the cloaked figure, and the horrifying scream.

Professor Spout sent her to the infirmary to make sure she was alright and Harry was led there by both Ron and Hermione, who apparently got over their row and could once again talk to each other without shouting.

As predicted, by dinner the entire school knew that Harry had fainted. Malfoy, apparently delighted by the news, made jabs at her throughout the meal, calling her Princess Potter, a nickname she immediately hated with a passion, and asking whether she was actually this desperate for attention.

Harry went to bed that night so annoyed she barely remembered the encounter with the Dementor by the time she fell asleep.

-

Their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Lupin was a highly-anticipated event. Used to having rather subpar teachers so far, the students were both excited to meet their new professor and a bit scared he would end up being as much of a disappointment as his predecessors.

When they arrived into the classroom, the professor wasn’t there yet. He came in a few minutes later and, after instructing them to leave their books and take their wants as their lesson was apparently going to be practical, he led them outside. A few curious looks were exchanged as they followed him out of the room. They had never had a practical Defence class before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when Lockhart had brought a cage full of pixies to class and then set them loose.

They encountered Peeves on their way, but Professor Lupin seemed completely unparsed by the poltergeist’s insults and managed to get rid of him in record time, making the class look at their shabby new teacher with increased respect.

Lupin led them down a second corridor and ushered them inside the staffroom.

It was a long, panelled room full of old, mismatched chairs and it was empty except for one teacher.

Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in with annoyance.

As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He got to his feet and strode past the class, leaving the room a moment later with his black robes billowing behind him.

Harry suspected that Snape didn’t like Lupin very much. She wondered if it had anything to do with Snape’s desire to teach Defence, as Percy had mentioned, but she quickly dismissed it. Snape had doubtlessly disliked the previous DADA professors for one reason or another, but the way his face twisted every time Lupin spoke to him during meals was enough proof that there was some animosity between them that ran deeper than mere envy and was probably more personal.

"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," he said calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Professor Lupin told them. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks... I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked Professor Dumbledore if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice."

The professor asked questions about Boggarts at random, awarding points for each good answer, and explained that the easiest way to get rid of the creature was to laugh at it. The charm used to repel them, _Riddikulus_ , was simple, but it required force of mind – to force the Boggart to assume a shape that its victim would find amusing.

Professor Lupin called on Neville to be the first to perform the spell, much to everyone’s surprise.

While Neville wasn’t the worst student in their year, he was certainly not the best either, and he looked like he was going to the gallows as he approached their teacher, pale like a ghost. The professor told Neville to think about what he was most afraid of and then to reimagine it in a way that would make him laugh.

Harry was a bit worried about what the creature would turn into, or rather _whom_. Like most of her classmates, she knew Neville was a bit scared of Professor Snape and she had a feeling Snape wouldn’t take kindly to a room full of kids laughing at him.

Thankfully, the Boggart transformed into an older wizard Harry assumed to be Neville’s infamous Great Uncle Algie instead. The creature got out of the wardrobe with a use of a cane, its expression stormy. With a flick of his wand and a slight stammer, Neville managed to charm it into a clown’s outfit, much to the amusement of the entire class.

“Brilliant, Neville!” Professor Lupin said with a wide smile. "Now, I would like all of you to take a moment to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..."

He instructed the class to form a circle so they could each have a go at the Boggart before the creature was vanquished.

The room went quiet.

 _What scares me most in the world_? Harry thought.

Her first thought was Lord Voldemort – a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before she had even started to plan a possible counterattack on a Boggart-Voldemort, a horrible image came floating to the surface of her mind.

A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak...

A long, rattling breath from an unseen mouth...

Then a cold so penetrating it felt like drowning...

Harry shivered. She had only met the Dementors once, but the impression they had left was lasting to say the least.

Eventually the Boggart approached another person. It kept changing forms, shifting from on to another as soon as the spell was cast.

Crack! A bloodied mummy for Parvati.

Crack! A banshee for Seamus.

Crack! A single bloody eye for Dean.

Crack! A spider for Ron.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

It went on for a while as the creature bounced from one student to another. Then it ran out of its way and came to a halt in front of Harry. She raised her wand, ready, but before the Boggart had a chance to shift again, Professor Lupin intervened, shielding her, and it took a form of a silvery-white orb hanging in the air that the professor dismissed almost lazily. Afterwards the creature bounced back to Neville who charged forward, looking determined. It changed one more time and then it exploded, bursting into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

When Harry left the staffroom a moment later, surrounded by her classmates who applauded the lesson and seemed genuinely excited for the next one, she followed them silently, still confused.

Why wouldn’t Professor Lupin let her face her fear?

What was he afraid it would be?

She supposed the questions would have to remain unanswered, at least for now.

-

Soon enough the classes started blurring together.

Harry barely saw Hermione whose schedule was insane as the girl had decided to take the maximum amount of courses allowed and was positively swamped with assignments. When she managed to hang out with her, they usually studied together or did their homework in either the Common Room or the library. Ron was a bit bumped that they were both too busy to spend time with him and took to playing chess with other boys in their year in protest. Although his workload was significantly lighter, since his electives were arguably the easiest ones available, Harry still wondered how he managed to get relatively good grades given the lack of work he put in. Then again, Ron just seemed to be one of those people who put the minimal amount of effort in his classes and was still somehow able to pass all of them, so maybe he didn’t necessarily need to study more.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had quickly become most people's favourite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad to say about Professor Lupin, but nobody else gave a damn about the state of their professor’s robes or the fact he looked dead on his feet most of the time – that’s how amazing his classes were – and Harry wished she could enjoy the rest of her courses as much as DADA.

Potions was alright and still one of her best subjects, but Snape’s mood seemed to deteriorate as the semester continued and he was snappier than usual, going off at the slightest thing, so everyone learnt pretty quickly to walk on eggshells around him. Charms, Herbology, and Transmutation were still challenging, but the workload wasn’t as crazy, and History of Magic was more or less nap time for Harry as she had trouble staying focused during Professor Binns’ long-winded lectures.

Divination turned out to be a dud and it was Harry’s most disliked class. She was growing to dread the hour every week she spent in Professor Trelawney's stifling tower room, trying to ignore the way the professor's enormous eyes filled with tears every time she looked at her. She didn’t like Professor Trelawney and she wasn’t the only one, though the professor was treated with respect bordering on reverence by a few students in the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, for example, had taken to haunting North Tower at lunch times, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they knew things the others didn't. They had also started using hushed voices whenever they spoke to Harry, as though she were on her deathbed, which was infuriating to say the least.

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the action-packed first class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. They were now spending lesson after lesson learning how to look after flobberworms, which had to be some of the most boring creatures in existence.

Much to everyone’s surprise, hers most of all, Harry ended up excelling in Arithmancy. Professor Vector was a very good teacher and her lessons were both challenging and engaging, and Harry whizzed through her assignments with no problem.

English was as boring as ever. Professor Bennet had them working on their creative writing skills and Harry was growing tired of rewriting her for-and-against essays for the millionth time. They were also discussing the plot of _Romeo and Juliet_ , a book Harry couldn’t care less about even if she tried. Magical Law and Economics was equally as uninspiring, with Professor Fitzwilliam spending most of the time droning on and on about the state of economy in Magical Britain at various points in time, and Geography seemed at times like a complete waste of time, especially when Professor Johannes was apparently hell-bent on making her lessons as mind-numbing as possible.

Still, without doubt, the most horrible class of all was the mandatory Health and Sexual Education course, headed by Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. Harry knew it was important to learn about those things, but it was still mildly embarrassing to listen and talk about sex, periods, and contraception while all her year mates sat around her in the small classroom off to the side of the Hospital Wing. One good thing that came out of it was that Harry learnt there was a magical alternative to menstruation products – something she had no idea existed up until the first HSE meeting – and that she could request a Pain Relieving potion from Madame Pomfrey during her time of the month. It made periods much more bearable, that’s for sure.

Then there was Quidditch.

Harry was of the option that Oliver Wood was born for the sole purpose of torturing the Gryffindor team with unreasonably intense training schedules that left everyone feeling as if they had been ran over by a hippogriff herd. 

She understood that it was his last year at Hogwarts and, consequently, his last chance to win the highly coveted Quidditch Cup, but his insistence on meeting every single afternoon for at least an hour-long meeting where they either practiced moves or had to listen to him talk about strategy with a manic gleam in his eyes was a bit much.

Still, it was hard to remain negative when the whole team seemed so excited and optimistic about their chances to win the trophy and Harry found herself having fun, despite being perpetually exhausted.

-

The first Hogsmeade weekend was scheduled for the end of October, on Halloween. Ron and Hermione promised Harry they would get her all the sweets and treats she could possibly ever want, but it wasn’t enough to brighten her sour mood. She had wanted to go with them so badly... Unfortunately, there was no way she could go and she had to accept it.

She walked them to the Entrance Hall after breakfast on the day of the outing, a bit nervous about how her friends were going to manage spending an entire afternoon together when they were once again barely talking to each other.

Crookshanks really seemed to have it out for Scrabbers and Ron was accusing Hermione of not taking him seriously and dismissing his worry. Harry had to agree with Ron on that one, much to Hermione’s disgruntlement.

After wishing them a good day, she wandered dispiritedly toward the library to work on her assignments. On her way there she stumbled upon Filch, who was as unpleasant as ever. Luckily, Professor Lupin appeared just in time to save her from the caretaker. He invited her for tea, promising to show her a Grindylow he had acquired for their upcoming class, which sounded interesting. Since Harry didn’t really want to spend the entire day studying, she agreed and walked with Lupin to his office.

The Grindylow was a funny-looking water demon that bared its green teeth at Harry when she approached it and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds in a corner of the aquarium.

"Sit down," said Lupin as he tapped the kettle with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout. He then took the lid off a dusty tin and placed one teabag each in the two mismatched chipped mugs. "I've only got teabags, I'm afraid. But I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?"

Harry looked at him. Lupin's eyes were twinkling.

"How did you know about that?" Harry asked.

"Professor McGonagall told me," said Lupin, passing Harry a mug. "You're not worried, are you?"

"No," said Harry, although that wasn’t exactly the truth. For a moment she thought about telling Lupin of the dog she'd seen in Magnolia Crescent, but decided not to. She didn't want Lupin to think she was a coward, especially since Lupin already seemed to think she couldn't even cope with a Boggart.

Something of Harry's thoughts seemed to have shown on her face, because Lupin said, "Anything worrying you, Harry?"

"No. I mean... Yes," she said with a frown, putting her tea down on Lupin's desk. "You know that day we fought the Boggart?"

"Yes," said Lupin slowly.

"Why didn't you let me fight it?" said Harry abruptly.

What Lupin said was exactly what Harry suspected – the Defence professor was afraid that Harry’s Boggart would turn out to be Lord Voldemort and, for obvious reasons, he didn’t want it to happen as it would have doubtlessly caused panic amongst the students.

"I didn't think of Voldemort," said Harry hesitantly. "I... Um. I have met a Dementor and... Well, um."

She didn’t know how to continue. It seemed silly now, to be afraid of Dementors.

However, Professor Lupin didn’t seem to agree with her.

"I see," he said thoughtfully. "Well, I'm impressed." He smiled slightly at the look of surprise on Harry's face. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is, well, _fear_. Very wise, Harry."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so she drank some more tea.

"So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the Boggart?" Lupin asked shrewdly.

Harry shrugged noncommittally. She was suddenly feeling a lot happier. "Professor Lupin, you know the Dementors-"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," called Lupin.

The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing.

"Ah, Severus," said Lupin, smiling. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin.

"I was just showing Harry my Grindylow," said Lupin pleasantly, pointing at the creature which has emerged from its hiding spot and was once again showing its teeth.

"Fascinating," said Snape, without looking at it.

The following conversation between the two professors was weird, for a lack of a better word. Harry got the feeling that Snape didn’t trust Lupin to drink the potion and she wondered why he was so focused on it. The Potions Master didn’t do things without cause, after all.

When Snape left, Harry looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled before taking a sip out of it and shuddering. Apparently, the potion didn’t taste very good and adding sugar would ruin the brew.

"Why-?" Harry began. Lupin looked at her and answered the unfinished question.

"Oh, I've just been feeling a bit off-colour," he explained. "This potion is the only thing that helps, but I’m afraid I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex, so I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape. There aren't many wizards who are up to making it."

Harry didn’t comment. She had a feeling Lupin wasn’t telling the whole truth and, as always, white lies made her nervous and suspicious. She quickly finished her tea and, after wishing Professor Lupin a good day, she left his office, her mind focused on the peculiar potion and her speculations as to why Lupin and Snape didn’t like each other.

With nothing better to do, Harry went with her original plan for the day. Since most of the older students were in Hogsmeade and it was the weekend, the library was almost completely deserted, save for a few younger students. Harry quickly spotted the fiery-red hair of Ginny Weasley and headed in her direction.

She still felt bad about leaving Ginny alone last year. If she had bothered to spend more time with the younger girl, maybe she would have noticed something was wrong before it was almost too late. To assuage the guilt, Harry had made it a point to check on the youngest Weasley at least once a day and kept an eye on her, just to make sure she was doing okay after the ordeal she went through in the Chamber of Secrets. Thankfully, Ginny didn’t seem to mind the hovering too much.

“Hi Gin,” Harry greeted as she approached the table Ginny shared with another girl.

Ginny looked up from her book and grinned. “Oh, hi Harry!” She said. “I thought you were going to Hogsmeade today?”

“I don’t have a permit, actually,” said Harry with a shrug, “so I’m kind of stuck here.”

“That’s too bad,” the younger girl told her with a sympathetic smile. “Do you want to join Luna and I? We’re working on an assignment for Professor Ivanov. It’s due Monday and, well... We could honestly use some help if you have time?”

It was Harry’s turn to grin. “Sure, no problem!”

In the end, Harry spent most of the afternoon talking both girls through math problems. She had never considered herself to be able to teach, but apparently she could do it pretty well. Luna Lovegood, who was Ginny’s deskmate and friend, was definitely a quick study and Ginny wasn’t half-bad either.

Of course Harry had never met Luna before, but she had heard of her as the Ravenclaw girl was often a talk of school. Most people considered her strange and made fun of her, sometimes going as far as to bully her. Luna didn’t seem to care or mind though, and Harry thought it was actually quite admirable that she could ignore the whispers and snide comments, and carry on as if nothing was wrong. She found herself liking Luna’s blunt honesty and her obvious passion for magical creatures, even if some of them seemed to be entirely made up.

Soon it was time for dinner.

Ron and Hermione came back from Hogsmeade bearing a whole bag of stuff for Harry, which was really nice of them. They seemed to be on speaking terms again, much to Harry’s amusement.

The trio sat together during the Halloween feast. The food was delicious, as usual, and even Hermione and Ron, who were full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything. Harry kept glancing at the staff table. Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did, and seemed very engaged in a rather animated discussion with Professor Flitwick.

Harry moved her eyes along the table, to the place where Snape sat. Was she imagining it, or were Snape's eyes flickering toward Lupin more often than was natural? Why was he doing it? She was at once reminded of the smoking potion and that weird exchange between the two professors, and her curiosity about why they had such an antagonistic relationship was more acute than ever.

Still, it had been a pleasant evening and Harry's good mood couldn't even be spoiled by Malfoy, who shouted through the crowd as they all left the hall, "The Dementors send their love, Princess Potter!"

-

Since everything was going so well, it was only natural that something had to happen sooner rather than later.

Harry had no idea how Sirius Black managed to break into Hogwarts. The thought of the mass-murderer wandering the halls, looking for her, made her blood run cold.

All the students were gathered in the Great Hall for the night as nobody knew if Black was still in the castle or not, and they weren’t willing put anyone at risk. Some teachers went to search the school, but they couldn’t find even a trace of the intruder, which was quite troubling.

Harry also overheard a rather curious conversation between the Headmaster and Professor Snape that made her even more wary around Professor Lupin. Although Snape didn’t mention him by name, he strongly suggested the Defence teacher might have been somehow involved in the break-in and Harry trusted his judgement. Her previous experiences with the DADA professors weren’t stellar either and she had learnt the hard way that it was better to be cautious around them.

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days.

Harry tried to ignore it all, focusing on studying and Quidditch instead, but it wasn’t easy. Everyone assumed, rightfully so, that Black was after her and was giving her looks. A lot of people whispered behind her back too. It was like last year all over again. The theories about how Black managed to enter the castle were wild and getting wilder by the day, and the school gossip mill was fit for bursting with weird ideas.

It was a good thing that Harry was so busy. Otherwise it would have surely driven her mad.

-

The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team was training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch who was asked to oversee their practice by Professor McGonagall.

At their final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver Wood gave his team some unwelcome news. Apparently Draco Malfoy was still indisposed, so Gryffindor wasn’t going to play Slytherin, but Hufflepuff instead.

"Unfortunately we can’t prove that Malfoy is faking it," Wood lamented, "and we've been practicing all those moves assuming and Hufflepuff's style is so different... They've got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie suddenly giggled while Harry blushed, her face turning beetroot-red.

Cedric Diggory was probably the prettiest boy at Hogwarts. At least Harry thought so. He was tall and lean, and his wavy light brown hair was always tousled just so. Harry liked his eyes too – they were a really cool shade of grey, reminding her of a cloudy sky. Cedric was also very friendly. They have only talked once or twice, but he had been nice to her every time and he had smiled at her so beautifully, and...

"What?" Wood snapped, bringing Harry out of her daydream quite abruptly.

"He's that tall, good-looking one, isn't he?" Said Angelina.

"Strong and silent," added Katie, and they started to giggle again.

The boys on the team didn’t seem particularly amused by their behaviour, commenting that Cedric was silent because he had nothing smart to say and generally being very mean-spirited about the whole thing. Harry tried very hard to pretend she wasn’t part of the discussion at all. The last thing she needed was for someone to find out about her crush on the older Hufflepuff boy.

The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy who, in a true Malfoy fashion, was still pretending to be in agonizing pain and kept on saying he was sorry he would miss the chance to play, even though everyone knew he was lying.

Thankfully, Harry had no room in her head to worry about anything except the upcoming match, least of all Malfoy. Oliver Wood kept hurrying up to her between classes and giving her tips. The third time this happened, Wood talked for so long that Harry suddenly realized she was ten minutes late for Defence Against the Dark Arts, and set off at a run with Wood shouting after her something about Diggory, serves, and loops.

She skidded to a halt outside the Defence classroom, pulled the door open, and dashed inside.

"So sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin! I was-"

But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at her from the teacher's desk – it was Professor Snape.

For a moment she was afraid he would dock points for her tardiness, but he only jerked his head to the side, indicating that she should take her seat at once.

The lesson was interesting. Professor Snape chose to teach them about werewolves, a topic they weren’t supposed to cover until after Christmas, and Harry thought the lesson would have been enjoyable if the professor wasn’t making some very pointed jabs at Professor Lupin every chance he got. He was also really mean to them for the first time since first year. Ron ended up getting a detention for defending Hermione, who spoke out of turn twice and lost Gryffindor ten points.

When the bell rang at last, Snape told them to write an essay about ways to recognize and kill a werewolf that was to be handed in by Monday, and then told Ron to stay back, so he could arrange his detention.

Harry and Hermione left the room with the rest of the class, who waited until they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape.

"Snape's never been like this before," Harry said to Hermione. "Why's he got it in for Lupin? Do you think this has something to do with Black?"

Harry had told Ron and Hermione about what she had overheard about Snape’s suspicions. Ron thought she was crazy and Hermione didn’t know what to think.

"I don't know, could be," said Hermione after a moment. "I really hope Professor Lupin gets better soon..."

Ron caught up with them five minutes later in a towering rage. Apparently Snape wanted him to clean bedpans in the infirmary without magic, which was horrible.

Harry had to agree with Hermione – it would be best if Professor Lupin came back and they didn’t have to have any more Defence classes with Snape as whatever issue the Potions Master had with the DADA professor clearly clouded his judgement.

-

The day of the game was even windier and rainier. Being in the Quidditch pitch felt like getting under the shower, only it was much colder and they were all on brooms, hovering many feet above the slippery ground.

Harry held onto her Nimbus 2000 for dear life, looking for the Snitch, but her vision was heavily impaired by the rivulets of water running down the lenses of her goggles and the wind kept throwing her off course. She also tried to be mindful of Cedric’s position. Unfortunately, every time she laid eyes on him, her brain short-circuited, because the Hufflepuff team captain looked very nice even in soaking-wet robes and he smiled at her every time he caught her gaze.

In an attempt to put her head back in the game, Harry turned, intending to head back toward the middle of the field, but at that moment, a flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw something that distracted her completely – the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.

Her numb hands slipped on the broom handle and her Nimbus dropped a few feet. Shaking her sodden bangs out of her eyes, she squinted back into the stands, but they were empty.

"Harry!" Came Wood's yell from the Gryffindor goal posts. "Harry, behind you!"

Harry looked wildly around. Cedric was pelting up the field and a tiny speck of gold was shimmering in the rain-filled air between them. With a jolt of panic, Harry threw herself flat to the broom handle and zoomed toward the Snitch.

"Come on!" She growled as the rain whipped her face. "Faster!"

But something odd was happening.

An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly deaf...

 _What is going on_?

And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over her, inside her, just as she became aware of something moving on the field below.

Before she'd had time to think, Harry had taken her eyes off the Snitch and looked down.

At least a hundred Dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at her, were standing beneath her. It was as though freezing water were rising in her chest, cutting at her insides.

And then she heard someone screaming, screaming inside her head. A woman’s voice, desperate with panic.

" _Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!_ "

Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry's brain. What was she doing? Why was she flying? She needed to help the woman! Where was she? Where?

And then she was falling, falling through the icy mist.

" _Not Harry! Please! Have mercy, have mercy..._!"

A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming...

The last thing Harry registered was something colliding with her, and then she knew no more.

**Author's Note:**

> The story is almost complete, so I should be able to post new chapters fairly regularly - I should be able to post a new chapter every two weeks (at least that's the plan lol). 
> 
> Also, you might be able to recognize some parts of the story. That's because I took some scenes and parts of dialogues from the original and either changed or rearranged them to fit into the plot. I thought it would be a nice addition :D
> 
> For posting updates please visit my Tumblr (lossie92)!


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